Wade in the Water
by jacob1106
Summary: A year after Finnick Odair's legendary victory at the mere age of 14 everyone is wondering, who will join him in the echelon of victors. Who can handle the pressure as the water rises? And who will drown in defeat? Let the 66th Hunger Games begin.
1. Same Show, Different Day

**Welcome to Wade in the Water! If you've read Stars then you know who the victor is if not SPOILERS!**

 **I am currently accepting tributes and can't wait to see what I get! A few tips, be original, more details the better, and a review/follow never hurts ;)**

 **enjoy! I'll be back soon with part 2 of the intro!**

* * *

 _Maximus Treiglad - District Three Mentor_

Finnick uses his trident to parry the strike of the girl from District One and spins the blades directly into her chest. She dies seconds later.

"Ladies and gentlemen may I present the victor of the 65th Hunger Games, Finnick Odair!"

Mags jumps up from her seat and starts clapping excitedly, it's more movement than I've ever seen from her. She did it.

"That makes what, eight victors for District Four?" Aspen comes up behind me and puts on arm on my shoulder. "They're catching up." Cashmere, the girl who won last year, joins our little pod.

"Yeah right. Just because Finnick got this one doesn't mean District Four is our caliber. We have eleven victors." She flips her luxurious blonde locks over her shoulder.

"Just like District Two." I say with a smirk.

"Fuck you Treiglad." She saunters off.

"Everyone wants to, not everyone can." I say back at her. Aspen and I laugh. "She's a piece of work, don't you think?" I ask him.

"She's a primadonna from District One who volunteered because her brother won the year before her. She's literally the dumbest and most entitled person I've ever met. How she won baffles me." We go over and flip the switches off on our computers. Both our tributes made it to the final 8 so we were required to stay until the finale. I can't say I'm shocked that Finnick won, but it sucks. I know what's waiting for him when he gets back.

"You think either of us will ever get a victor?" Aspen questions me. "It's been a rough few years for everyone. Four career victors in a row, not exactly looking good."

"Each year brings on new tributes. We just have to see what the reaping brings us. Couldn't be worse than a few years ago we both our tributes died in the bloodbath. That was just embarrassing." We share an uncomfortable chuckle.

"That's why I stopped learning their names." He runs a hand through his hair and Mags comes over to us slowly. Her old bones only move so quickly.

"Boys, we're getting a drink if you'd like to join us." Mags says barely coherent. She suffered a stroke a few years back and has been losing control over her speech ever since. Though she hasn't lost a single drop of vigor. Aspen looks at me and shrugs.

"Why not." Within ten minutes there are all 8 victors, one for each tribute in the final 8, sitting around a circular mahogany chamber. Aside from Mags, Cashmere, Aspen and myself we also have Wattson from District Five, Lyme from District Two, Brutus also from Two, and Dane from Six.

"That was quite a show Mags. Very impressed with that youngster." Lyme says sipping on a stout brew. "Youngest victor ever am I right?"

"Yes. He beat my record of 15." Wattson says holding an electric blue cup or something. "I must admit, I'm impressed as well. That kid was tricky."

"He wasn't even the best fighter." Cashmere says and throws back another shot of vodka. "My girl should've been able to take him." She rolls her eyes.

"But she didn't, so get over it." Aspen barks at her. Cashmere won last year and hasn't really meshed well with everyone. Her brother is nice enough, very polite and well versed in social interaction. But she's a queenbee, and among a crowd of victors queenbees don't do well.

"You should be proud that she did as well as she did. She fought bravely and her sacrifice will not be in vain." Brutus bellows, his voice is low and finalizing. Out of every living victor I think that he buys into the bullshit and propaganda the most. However, I respect him. He's never been anything shy of just and fair.

"Whatever." Cashmere crosses her arms and legs and glares at the center of the table. She'll learn quick enough that she's not infallible. For now though, she can think what she wants.

"I'm impressed with this one." Dane points at Mags. "She has an unprecedented four victors under her belt, more than Daniel, Jeremiah, or Andromeda, and won her games without any help. That's an impressive resume Mags. This night might belong to Finnick, but I know you're the real star." Mags blushes and wrings her hand.

"I just tailor my strategy to each individual tribute. They're all different and have to be treated as such." Mags, always dropping her wisdom on us. When she dies I hope it's quick and painless, she deserves as much for all the good she's done in the world. Saving four people, even over the span of 50 years, is impressive. Lyme stands up and lifts her glass for a toast.

"To Finnick Odair, victory of the 65th Hunger Games, our newest mentor and our future friend." We all rise and clink our glasses together. I toss back my glass of battery acid in honor of the poor kid. He's so damn handsome, so damn doomed.

But that's not my problem.

* * *

Eleven months later.

* * *

 _Ariash Evus - Head Gamemaker for the 66th Hunger Games_

I tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear and stare directly into Snow's eyes. He thinks he can intimidate me, but he's dead wrong. "Hello Mr. President. To what do I owe the pleasure?" My voice is the only sound in the room, all my interns and employees are silent, and if they are still typing they've found a way to do it without making noise.

"Just here to make sure everything's running smoothly, Ariash. I trust that you understand the extreme importance of your job." His voice lurks with undertones of power and unspoken threats. The previous two predecessors both 'committed suicide' after their games ended. It hasn't been a very steady job the past decade.

"Sir, I don't have a worry in the world. Everything is running smoothly to my standards." I try to sound efficient and sharp. In a man's world I have to play their games, which means coming off as a bitch. It's not a hard sell.

"That's what worries me." I tilt my head at him.

"Excuse me, sir." I place great emphasis on sir, but he shows no change in statute or comfortability.

" _Your_ standards. I need you to aim higher than _your_ standards. Try to impress me, not the common folk who will cheer every time a tributes kills another. I trust you're familiar with the whispers." He means the talk of rebellion in the districts. Every few weeks we hear a new rumor of a different sector of a different district that is getting a little rowdier.

"Sir, I'm very well versed in everything that's going on in this country. I didn't take this position like a fool." In fact, I'm the first person to actively seek the job in a few decades. Ever since Zion Tzorin died of a drug overdose people have been appointed to the position.

"I'm not saying you're a fool. I'm saying that you might be overestimating your own abilities." I bite the inside of my cheeks to avoid making a visible facial expression. I have to be ruthless, stoic, and unreadable. Just like Snow.

"Never sir." I say coolly. I can play this game too Snow.

"Everyone out." Snow says slightly louder than our conversation has been. Like a stampede everyone flees the room to the nearest exits until it's just the two of us. "I have complete confidence in you Evus. If I didn't you would already be dead and I would have someone controllable in your place."

"What do you want -" He interrupts me.

"It's not about what I want, it's about what I don't want. I don't want to kill you. I don't want to worry about you rebelling against me. I have enough on my plate without an ungrateful, cocky, bold woman giving me attitude. I want you to be able to think for yourself, without forcing me to kill you. Do you think you can do that? Ariash." He speaks quickly and sharply, each word stabbing me with fear. I flinch when he says my name.

"Sir, I-"

"It's not about you. It's about Panem." He bellows. "I've build the greatest country the world has ever known. I won't have some ignorant woman help tear it down by letting my greatest weapon against the people be turned into something it's not. This is their sacrifice to us. I grow tired of killing people who don't understand that." We stand in silence and I take a step back, relinquishing power to him.

"You can do this Ariash. I know you can, just do it the right way."

"Yes sir." Is all I manage to say. I avert my gaze to the ground.

"Now, down to business." I lift my head up and see his body language to be friendlier, more open. I step forward to seem his equal.

"Of course." I clear my throat and try to sound professional, but my tone waivers. "The mutts are all set for the arena, we've already started filling all the water basins with the appropriate salinity, and the forcefield is nearing completion. Everything will be done before the reapings begin."

"Perfect." Snow pats me on the shoulder, seemingly proud of my work. "This is impressive Evus. I look forward to seeing this mutt in action." He spins a hologram of my pride and joy around his hand.

"Me either sir. I think it'll make for quite the show. No one has ever done anything quite like this yet." I zoom in on the beasts great maw and admire the rows upon rows of jagged teeth. My baby will be able to rip flesh from bone with ease should a tribute become too, uninteresting.

"What do you call it? It's not exactly truly organic is it?" He grabs a datapad and starts flipping through all the materials used to make it as well as statistics on it's durability and strength.

"We haven't named it yet. But you're correct sir, I'm sure you can notice-" I flip to a specific page of my report. "it's skin is stone."

"Excellent, I can't wait. I expect a tribute list soon."

"Yes sir." Snow walks away from me unexpectedly without saying good bye. Same show, different day with that guy. Maybe sooner or later I'll actually be able to one up him.

Not likely though.

I have work to do.

* * *

 **have a good one :D**


	2. Calm Before the Storm

**hey yall! sorry it's been a month, classes really picked up. regardless, here's part 2 of our intro! if you haven't read Stars then you might be confused by some of the references, but you'll be able to get the gist. also! I'm still accepting tributes! I'll post which spots are open on my profile, if I have enough tributes I'll start writing reapings if not then I'll have to decide whether or not to terminate the project :/**

* * *

 **Finnick Odair - District Four Victor**

"Now what moment would you say was the key to your victory?" Caesar Flickerman asks me curiously. As the Hunger Games creeps ever closer everyone seems to want to relive my victory with me. I can't say it's been an easy, or even pleasant year, but I reply with the same answer I give every time someone asks me this stupid question.

"As soon as I go reaped of course! I knew from the second they pulled my name I would be their victor. I'm not exactly a loser." I turn to a woman I the front row of the audience and give her a charming wink, she starts rapidly fanning herself. Caesar laughs at my answer before asking the commonplace follow up.

"My dear boy, always so confident! I love it! What moment in the Games was the key to your victory I'll say." He leans in closer and I get the slightest scent of wine coming from him. Did he take a few drinks before the interview without me? Appalling!

"That's easy, when Mags sent me that trident I knew. The other careers weren't even expecting it, how could they? I mean Amelia got away but you all saw what I did to her in the finale." I start chuckling for the crowd. A flash of Amelia's bright red hair charging at me sword first blurs through my vision.

"I think we actually have that as a clip! Yes? Yes, we do! Roll it!" The lights quickly dim and a screen behind me become illuminated. Just like in my head she rushes at me and we brawl for a few seconds before I trap her sword in my trident blades and twirl it far away. The blade clatters to the ground and I watch myself stab her through the heart. It's slightly undignified, a 14 year old boy killing an 18 year old girl who did everything right. Her one flaw was volunteering the year I was reaped. Poor thing.

"That was a good kill." I say to Caesar with a smirk. "She was a beauty though." The crowd boos at my compliment of her.

"We love you Finnick!" A woman screams from the center of the crowd, they're so damn easy to play.

"I love you ladies too." I blow them a kiss and per usual one of them faints. I turn back to Caesar. "She was a pretty face. Emphasis on was!" The entire audience shares a laugh with me. It's easier to just play along I think.

"You're so cheeky! No wonder you're the favorite!" I nod in agreement. My stay life has certainly been a fun whirlwind between my suitors and my interviews. Neither of which I particularly enjoy, but at least the suitors can't actually do anything, I'm barely 15. "What can you tell us about this year's arena?"

Now there's a sore subject. I know they're doing another aquatic arena, the head gamemaker's daughter told me that much a few weeks ago, and something about organic stones and ice? Who knows, even Feradre doesn't get told much by her mother Ariash.

"All I can say is that without a doubt it'll be a good show. Mrs. Evus won't disappoint, she was definitely the right woman for the job." I leave off the bit where I know sensitive information. I can't let all the mentors have an unfair advantage, just me and Mags.

"Well we're all looking forward to watching you go from victor to mentor. That's all the time we have today folks." He stands up and grabs my hand. "I wish you all the best. Finnick Odair ladies and gentlemen!"

I suppress a smile. I don't need luck, I have secrets and I am the best.

* * *

 **Symphony Spinner - Gamemaker**

Silently I click away at my laptop, observing. I've been in the gamemaking business long enough to know that the most important thing you can do is to watch out for yourself and let everyone think you're a total dumbass. That's how I've managed to outlive the past 3, wait make it 4, head gamemakers. To think it all started with that idiot Zion. I can't believe it's already been 8 years since the 58th Hunger Games and his death.

No one in the Capital was particularly thrilled that it was the Treiglad boy who came back. How did both tributes from District Two make the final battle and die? We just needed one of them! One easy to control ignorant slave to obey our will. After Maximus came back from the arena Zion pleaded with so many people for so long not to just have Max assassinated. I can picture it like it happened yesterday.

 _"You've got to be kidding me! Max won! It's not my fault that Caius bled out first! What did you want me to do? Electrocute Max from the ground? Send down a team of peacekeepers to help Caius win? You're not going to touch him. He's out victor and you all have to deal with it. His life is already shit enough in District Three. I've been selling him myself. But having him killed? You've got to be kidding me! I'd kill myself before I let you touch him."_

That sentence was all the reason Snow needed. Zion and Caelreth didn't even suspect a thing. I had been giving Zion his shots ever since the Games started and no one batted an eye as I delivered the lethal dose of neuroinhibitors. People really believed that Zion, a sociopath with memory problems, killed himself.

 _'He must have taken an extra shot'_ They would say. No one even looked into me or suspected a thing. But Snow was certainly pleased. I've killed every gamemaker in Snow's way for almost a decade now without so much as one acquisition. I've pitted people against each other, even to the point where I had the Jovenes siblings putting each other in prison for a crime that they didn't commit.

I peer across the top of my screen at Ariash Evus, the current head gamemaker. Does she know what I've been instructed to do if she fails? Does she even care? Has she already accepted that her job will claim her life, like so many before her? The masses blame stress of fame, but no one ever looks at the quiet meek one.

She holds file open staring a hologram of the cornucopia while chatting with three or four other people debating what type of material it should be made out of and how accessible it should be.

"What if we stock it with snorkels only?" A husky man in khakis suggests.

"That's a horrible idea. You can leave." Ariash motions for the door and we're short yet another intern. I'll probably have to kill him later. I tap a few icons on my screen and pull up his file. He's allergic to bees. That'll be easy.

 _Another day in the office._ I sigh.

She hasn't misstepped ever since their meeting but I know better. Every gamemaker is exactly the same, just like the victors.

They all think they're so damn important and everyone should worship the ground the walk upon. As if they aren't all murders. Yet I know one thing that they never realize until it's far too late.

No matter how many people you kill there's always someone stronger waiting to kill you.

* * *

 **Maximus Treiglad - District Three mentor**

"So who's turn is it?" I ask wearily. None of us really _want_ to mentor this year. We've been on a shitty streak and who wants the responsibility of fixing it? I sure as hell don't.

"Well, let's look at this logically." Beetee says. I have to fight the urge to barf. If I had a nickle for every time he said the word logic I wouldn't need to be a victor to be rich. "Who mentored last year." I internally groan as Drake answers the question.

"You and Wiress." My shoulders slump as Beetee pops the bubble of disappointment in the room.

"Then it's obvious Drake, you and Maximus will mentor this year." He leans back in his chair with challenging eyes, as though his reasoning is the end-all be-all of these types of decisions.

"I'm not really feeling it." I say plainly. "My real life is depressing enough without this mentoring bullshit." Wiress jumps up from her seat speaking quickly and just loud enough to be annoying.

"Did you fight with your sister again? I heard the racket a few nights ago you're keeping everyone in the village up. It's quite rude." She falls back into her seat and starts shivering clutching her knees close to her chest. I open my mouth to retort with an insult, but Wiress is the last person I want to spark a conversation with. I'd have better luck getting a cement wall to fall in love with me than I would actually explaining something to her.

"That's personal." Is all I grant her.

"So then it's settled. You two will mentor." Beetee quickly stands up before either of us can argue and heads towards the exit. "Don't for the reaping tomorrow. I'm expecting you both to be on your best behavior." He leaves.

"Of course Dad." Drake says with venom in his words. Drake might be 37 but sometimes I swear to god he acts like he's younger than me. But I realized a long time ago that's just how he copes.

That and the occasional batch of morphling, not that I'm judging him at all. I've shot up my fair amount, but no one needs to know that.

"I fucking hate Beetee sometimes." Drake says as Wiress leaves the room.

"Yeah well he's not wrong. Technically it is our turn. Also, you should be a little more respectful to Beetee. He's the only living mentor in District Three who has actually managed to bring someone home. As high and mighty as you pretend to be he's succeed three times where you've failed." My words are laced with contempt and anger. Every now and then I just really enjoy saying mean shit to Drake. It's just how our relationship is.

"Fuck you Max." He says carelessly. "He's lucky. He didn't do jack shit for me in my games, and if I recall correctly he never did anything for you either." My heart skips a beat as I relive being alone in the arena for a moment. Drake isn't wrong. Beetee never sent a parachute my way during my stay at Ohio State.

"Still better than you." I wink at Drake and start to leave the room. He'll be angry for maybe an hour but get over it. After all we're working together. "Also I get dibs on the boy this time." The door shuts behind before he can protest.

But it doesn't matter. Boy or girl. It's just another year with another pair of bodies.

* * *

 **Ariash Evus - Head Gamemaker**

"God I always hated that intern." I say under my breath. I head over to Symphony Spinner, one of the most experienced gamemakers in my team. She's been doing this as long as anyone.

"Good help is hard to find these days." She quips with a small smile. I chuckle at the cliche.

"You could say that again. Regardless, what do you think? About the cornucopia I mean. I've decided I like the idea of making it solid ice but I'm not sure what to fill it with yet."

"Snorkels sounded like such a good idea I'm surprised you want a second opinion. That being said, last year with all the spiked maces was certainly interesting." She stares at her computer screen and struggles to find more words.

"I want it to be memorable. I want my games to make a difference." _I want to be impressive_. The only reason I'm seeking one of my underlings opinions is because she's been here for almost a decade. It's quite impress really. She's so unremarkable and none of her ideas are fresh.

"That's your problem Ariash." She says rolling her eyes. I clench my teeth and resist the urge to backhand her.

"I'm sorry. Excuse you?" I say through a gritted smile.

"Everyone wants to be so successful and wants their Hunger Games to be so perfect and spectacular. You want to suck Snow off vicariously through the Hunger Games. I get it. You're not the first." Her tone in nonchalant, which only adds to my rage.

"I think you've forgotten your place Symphony." I tell her with an aire of superiority.

"No, you came over here and asked me a question. Remember Ariash? Or do you have memory problems like Zion Tzorin?" My face flushes with the mention of Zion. He was the first in a string of Head Gamemaker suicides I'm determined to stop. I stand silently leering down at the red haired woman beneath me. "If you want my opinion put nothing in the cornucopia or put everything. One or the other don't try to make is so special. Takes away from the bloodshed." Her slender fingers start tapping away on her keyboard.

"Maybe you should take the rest of the day off." I tell her.

"What?"

"Leave, before you 'disappear' like every third other person who works here." She glowers up at me and flips her hair from her eyes.

"Of course boss." She slings a bag over her shoulder and starts sauntering out. "Always a pleasure Ariash."

Once the doors shut behind her I sit down and begin hacking her computer. She really should have turned it off. My fingers fly across the keys as I type in my security codes and delve into her personal files. All the things only she has access to.

It takes me a few minutes but I finally find a folder that doesn't belong. It's labeled 'Personnel files' and within I find complete bios and information on everyone who's worked for President Snow in the past 8 years. Gamemakers new and old and every intern in between

One folder in particular sticks out. It holds the complete files for Zion Tzorin, Erika Damascus, Gregorovich Younger, and Agrippina Milo with the word _deceased_ written in bright red block letters across the top. All head gamemakers who killed themselves in the past 8 years. Naturally my file is in next to them. My heart stops for a moment as I read the block letters across my information.

 _To be terminated upon completion of Hunger Games._

* * *

 **leave a review and have a great day! also submit! info is on my profile!**


	3. Alpha and Omega

**welcome! to the first installment of the reapings! there will be 6 chapters that each have 4 points of view (aside from this one because only Haymitch can represent District Twelve) this way you can all get a little sense of the current victors/mentors. I of course love to hear feedback from y'all so if you leave a few words about which mentor you like the most or least or if you like how I presented a tribute let me know :)**

 **please enjoy, District One and Twelve**

* * *

 **Fleur Stark - District One Mentor**

"Gloss I don't understand what your damage is." I stretch out towards the ceiling and stare into the crystal chandelier. Each vertebra in my spin cracks slowly.

"My 'damage'? Fleur, you're insane you know that right?" He looks at me as though I'm a fragile piece of glass waiting to be shattered. His words don't affect me. There's nothing a man can say or do to me that will ever effect me again. I'm too familiar with their poisons and violence to be so easily hurt.

"If I'm insane as you say, then I don't want to live in your reality." I scoot my chair across the floor and set my feet on the table. These pre-reaping meetings are always so drab. Nothing of note ever happens.

"Well you do live in my reality. This reality and there's nothing you can do to change it." Gloss implores me. But his pleas fall on deaf ears. He doesn't understand. He's had the easy life since his victory. He even managed to do the impossible and bring back his sister. Sure, fine, he had to kill people, but we literally all did. I would kill again, to have his life.

"I can sure try." I reach for the decanter of vodka and take a shot before Gloss practically climbs over the table and rips the glass container from my hand. "You're a real ass hole, you know that Gloss!" I bark at him with vodka spittle flying off my lips.

"I'm an asshole?" He starts chuckling to himself and rubbing his face. "That's right I'm the ass hole. You know, I thought you had your shit together a few years ago. Clearly you're not taking Alex's death very well." I stand up from my seat too quickly and have to stable myself against the table.

"How fucking dare you!" I try to swipe at him with my manicured nails but he takes a step back then grabs my wrist when I fall too far forward. "He was my only one!"

"You don't think I know that! God dammit Fleur. I'm trying to protect you, I'm trying to help you!" I yank my arm away from him bitterly.

"Don't touch me Gloss. I've had too many men grab my wrists over the years! I refuse to let you join the list." My jaw clenches so hard I think I hear my teeth crack a little bit.

"I just need you to be put together for these Games. We've got a real chance of winning this year, I've picked the best two tributes from the training center myself. Please Fleur. I can't do this alone." Gloss sits exhausted. "I had to deal with Alexandrite's death too. He was in the Capital with me when I was struggling to bring back Cashmere. He drank himself to death in front of me."

"You watched and did nothing to save him you bastard!" My eyes begin to blur with tears but I bite them back. I refuse to let a Davenport get the better of me. They don't understand pain.

"He was my friend! Just because you were his mentor doesn't mean you were the only one who cared about him! I was busy fighting for my sister's life I didn't have time to worry about saving someone else's! You're going to have to forgive me sooner or later!" Tears stream down Gloss's chiseled jaw, he never was one for keeping his act together.

"You've had the easy life Gloss! Everything was handed to you on a platter! No one ever fucking sold you for spare change! No one ever ruined your life! You came back without a scratch and managed to save your fucking sister! You watched Alex die and did nothing! Because you're a selfish sack of dog shit." My voice starts to level as I feel my words get colder and colder.

"I've had the easy life? Yeah, watching my sister replace you as 'sexiest victor alive' really has been the cherry on top of a perfect fucking life. I might be 15 years younger than you but that doesn't mean a damn thing when you're the fucking drunk." He grabs the decanter and throws it across the room, it shatters against a mahogany book shelf.

"What do you want from me Gloss?!"

"I want to keep saving lives!" He collapses against a wall and his head falls between his knees. I stand 20 feet away and will myself to stay where I am. Too many times have tears controlled my emotions. Too many times have I been the only comfort a rich man found.

"Yeah I'm sure you do." Slowly he stands and faces me with his hands at his side and a calm look across his face. Gloss wipes the tears from his face speaks to me deliberately.

"I do. If not one of our tributes I at least want to save you." His words hit my chest like a ton of bricks. "You're worth saving." Echoes of the cruel words people have said to me bounce in my mind. Long nights talking with President Snow about how my price needed to go back up, how this surgery or this new kink would please people, or how meaningless my life is flash across my memory.

I steel myself against the haunting voices and a sullen peace comes over me. "We don't have time for this. The reaping is about to start." I say monotoned as I walk out the door. Gloss continues to talk, but his words fall on deaf ears. Afterall, if Snow has taught me one thing about my worth, it's simple.

I have none.

* * *

 **Haymitch Abernathy - District Twelve Mentor**

"Damn does this shit taste good!" I say to no one in particular. The people in the bar surrounding me all cheer and raise their glasses with me. I pull out a wad of Capital credits and throw them at the bartender as well as on the floor. A few people are sober enough to recognize the bills and fall to the ground shoving them in pockets before crawling away. God, do I love the poor. There's not an honest man among them when the money starts flowing.

"Can I get you another Haymitch?" The bartender, I think his name is Coal, asks me. I'm his favorite customer, I singlehandedly keep this place open and functioning like it does. The joys of being a victor.

"Another round for everyone and a triple for me!" I shout and stumble over my stool. My ass hits the floor and everyone starts laughing with me. A stranger helps me up and I stare at her tits the whole time. They could use a little work, people in the Capital could do wonders to this average minemaiden.

"Here you go." Coal hands me my triple and I send it down my throat as quickly as possible. The clear liquor burns it's way down my neck and into my stomach. Ah the joys of booze.

Things progress like this for another hour or so. Everyone cheers and dances and takes drinks with me. This crowd doesn't have children, it's the only reason that they'd be at the bar on reaping day. Everyone else is too busy wringing their hands at home afraid of their own shadow. Once again, the joy of being a victor. I can join the other people with no one to care about in the bars.

"For Christ's sake Haymitch." Liberty Pirin bursts through the swinging doors with a scowl etched onto her perfectly groomed face. She's the poor sap who got stuck with District Twelve this year.

"What the fuck do you want Pirin?" She looks at me like I'm the stupidest person in the world, and she might be right.

"You know what day it is."

"Tuesday?"

"Dammit Haymitch." Clearly she doesn't appreciate the banter like I do.

"Yes darling?" I smile real wide at her. She waves away my booze breath away.

"The reaping? Now would be nice." Her nails dig into my wrist and she tugs me out the door. I stumble, trying to keep up. I think I hear Coal yell that I hadn't paid my tab so I throw a few more bills out of my pockets. Liberty keeps pulling and dragging me until I'm cramped in a small government room. I pull out my flask and take another swig of the clear liquor.

"Shall we?" I wipe my sleeve over my mouth as I accidentally spit a little over myself.

"Sure. Why the hell not." Liberty opens a door and walks out to a crowd of silence. Pale shades of blue and dull grays fill the crowds as the potential tributes get herded into small areas. Everyone knows the set up for it really is, a bunch of lambs to the slaughter. Aside from myself that is. I drink another shot.

 _The only living victor of District Twelve._ I should be so damn proud.

It takes a few minutes of depressed children shuffling around but Liberty gets up in front of the mic and starts spewing her script.

"Welcome everyone. To the reaping for the 66th Hunger Games. I'm proud to be here in the heart of District Twelve to present you with a mini film from the Capital enjoy!" She tries to sound perky, but like everyone else she's hollow. The video plays and blathers on and on about bullshit. I tilt my head to the side halfway through and vomit a little bit just to make a small point.

And because my head is swimming.

"Now, as is tradition. We'll start with the women." Liberty goes to the bowl and pulls out a name. "Ivy Dao." A girl about five feet tall with a ski slope nose leaves the 13 year old section. She tries so hard to keep her head up, I'm impressed with her until she gets about 5 feet away from the stairs and she makes a run for it.

It takes all of 15 seconds before the peacekeepers have her by the hair and throw her up on stage. She gets up and stares at the crowd.

"Awesome. The boy will be, Theophilus Larch."

"Theo. No." An older boy, from the 18 year old section starts to walk forward but before he can really get moving a small child from the 12 year old section rushes forward to the stage.

"And who are you?" Liberty asks confused.

"I'm Theo, I'm the tribute this year. Not anyone else." It all clicks in my mind. The 18 year old must be an older sibling, and this little shit got up here before he could volunteer. Family ties only go so far when it comes to life and death.

"Fair enough kid." Liberty says dejectedly. No one enjoys when two younger kids get reaped, especially when they're from here. We don't exactly have luck. "Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor." With that Liberty leaves the stage. I follow her into the small room again.

"I got my money on bloodbath. You?" Liberty asks.

"My bets top 5." She starts laughing.

"Yeah right. The dream." She grabs a bottle of booze and pours us both a drink. "To the Hunger Games." We cheer and toss them back.

 _Yeah. The Hunger Games, can't wait for two more bodies._

* * *

 **Gloss Davenport - District One Mentor**

Fleur walks from the room like ice was just pressed against her entire body. Her posture visibly changed and her voice went flat. I've lost her. I see the same dead look in her eyes that I've watched Cashmere come home with. I don't know how to combat this. How can I stop Snow from selling my friends and family? How can one man stand against the tide of the Capital.

Nothing pisses me off more than knowing how keenly in tune I was with their propaganda. But once I set foot in the arena, I knew. This is just another tool in their arsenal to prove that the strongest people in the Districts are tools. He's managed to break almost every victor in one way or another. Fleur and Cashmere are sold regularly, Alexandrite drank himself to death, and I can feel my sanity slipping away.

But, as much as I hate to admit it. Fleur is right. The reaping is about to start. I follow Fleur's path out to the stage wiping away the last of my tears as I go. Once I walk through the glass doors onto the stage I'm met with loud applause. I force a smile and wave at the crowd. They love me. They love every victor, but being the youngest male victor and a mentor this year I receive a little extra love. Fleur is already at her seat with her lips pursed and legs crossed.

"There you are Gloss." The current escort Talia comes up and gives me a kiss on each cheek. "I'm about to start if you'd please sit down." She motions to my seat and I plant my ass. It takes maybe 2 or 3 minutes but Talia goes up to the microphone and starts talking.

"Welcome to one and all! I'm pleased to be with District One as we reaped this year's future victor! But first, I've got a lovely video for you from The Capital." She claps and the crowd joins in. We watch as Snow speaks of peace and sacrifice and the retribution of the Districts and how brilliantly equal it all is. It takes a few minutes until the video is over and a few more minutes until the loud applause finally dies down but Talia goes back up to the microphone.

"Let's start with the gentlemen first." She prances over to the bowl and pulls a name. "Nico Vincentile." A lean 14 year old with long blonde hair starts to walk forward. I recognize him from the training center. He's a spear thrower, and a poor one at that. Hopefully he never steps foot in the arena.

"I volunteer as tribute." Welton Luxer says with a bellow. My shoulders relax. He was chosen for a reason. One of the head trainers, Alvar, implored me and the selection committee to choose him. His anger and physical prowess make him a competitor. Plus, I can't think of anyone else in the training center so hell bent on proving their worth. He has piercing blue eyes and a well manicured beard. He walks with confidence in each step and stern look in his eye. Weaker tributes will tremble knowing he's in the arena.

"Excellent!" Talia beams. "What's your name?"

"Welton Luxer, I'll be seeing you all again soon." He waves at the crowd and backs up. His jaw set in stone and his arms crossed.

"Now for the ladies. Fairyanna Bell." A nondescript girl from the 16 year old pen steps forward but before she manages to get one step away a confident voice rings.

"I volunteer as tribute." A pair of female voice ring out at the same time. The planned tribute, Satine Brunehilde, looks confused as Nigella Von Trice starts dashing for the stage. Satine starts running after her and I will Nigella to trip or fall. Anything. It's not her year. My prayers go unanswered as she flips her long blonde hair in the breeze and winks at the camera when she reaches the stage. She has the same twinkle I saw in Cashmere when she volunteered.

I should be surprised, but I'm not. The Von Trice family is among the richest in the district, and they always get what they want. I guess Nigella decided she wanted to be a tribute, even over her only friend I know of in the training center. She's as every bit stubborn as she is spoiled so maybe, with a little luck she has a chance. It'd take an avalanche to kill that girl.

"So exciting!" Talia jeers as she hands the mic to Nigella while glowering at Satine.

"I'm Nigella Von Trice, and it's truly an honor to be your tribute this year. Thank you." She bows, laying it on a little thick and gives the mic back to Talia.

"It's a pleasure to meet both of you and an honor to present you together as the District One tributes of the 66th Hunger Games! May the odds be ever in your favor!" The crowd erupts in applause, cheers, screams of joy and excitement.

I lean over to Fleur and speak in a delicate whisper, barely audible above the noise. "I want Luxer." She stares dead ahead and nods in agreement.

"I was going to ask for Von Trice anyway." I internally roll my eyes. But, I'm glad Fleur got her. The only spoiled girl I need in my life is my sister. Enough people hate her as is.

Luxer and Nigella are both lead inside different areas of the justice building and begin their goodbyes. For one of them this is the last chance they'll ever have to make peace with their loved ones. Maybe for both of them, who knows?

The fact of the matter is that Luxer is my number one priority, no matter how much I love Cashmere or care for Fleur they're at least guaranteed lives for a while. He isn't.

* * *

 **Hey! I hope everyone has enjoyed this set of reapings, I'm going to be posting probably every week depending on how much free time I get during the semester and especially during break**

 **also! just as exciting as a new chapter, I put together a blog for the tributes so you can all check them out and have a up to date resource on their status, it'll include allies deaths etc just check the link below or the one on my profile! (just remove the spaces)**

 **www. witwhg . blogspot . com**

 **leave a review with your thoughts on all our tributes (I know some aren't age appropriate I did the best I could) and anything else!**

 **I can't wait to hear from y'all and hope you have a great day!**


	4. Diamond in the Rough

**Hey! so we're back with another reaping! fair warning, I won't be updating with district 3 and 10 for about 3 weeks, I have a lot of traveling to do going back to campus and such. bottom line the story will go on, just gonna take a few extra days. it's more important for me to write true to form and entertaining as opposed to fast and sloppy**

 **enjoy!**

* * *

 **Lyme Darson - District Two Mentor**

The room buzzes loudly with a throng of hushed whispers. I guess every ocean is made up of individual drops of rain, but still. How these people all talk so quietly but make such a bustling noise is beyond me.

"Silence." I demand over the audience. Within seconds the entire room falls quiet. "We've gathered here as we do every year before the reaping to announce those who will represent us in the Hunger Games." They clap politely and I see a few people start high fiving. Such youth, so eager to prove their worth, so eager to die. My fellow mentor for this year Enobaria joins me at the head of the room with a wicked look imprinted on her face. Her teeth are probably bothering her, she just got them re-filed and painted again.

"We've really thought about this a lot, and I expect everyone, even those of you who aren't chosen, to respect our wishes. This year I was given choice of all my fellow women out there. I've chosen for my tribute Duchess Ashni." I nod at her choice, an 18 year old, a natural leader, maybe a little hot headed but that can keep you alive in the arena. "For her skills in weaponry and her tactical mind." Ashni approaches the stage, like practicing for the reaping, and people applaud her. She was one of the top choices, I respect my fellow mentor's choice. It's not the first time someone in her family has been chosen, but who knows maybe Duchess will be the first to come back.

"As I'm sure you've surmised that means that I've gotten to pick the boy who will represent us in the Hunger Games this year. After much consideration we've chosen Princeton Kingley." Shouts of dissent immediately start to ring out from the crowd.

"Bullshit!"

"The fag?"

"You've gotta be kidding me!"

"For his command over both weaponry and words." I speak over the crowds at Princeton starts walking to the stage. He's got a big grin plastered across his face he fist bumps as many people as he can, though some refuse him. Princeton has all the skills needed to succeed in the Hunger Games. I've personally spared with him, and he bests even me regularly. And his charm and use of the english diction is unparalleled. I'll admit though, he's not popular with some of his peers.

A trainee in the front row stands up, I recognize him and Charlie Trope, an 18 year old candidate for this year. "You're not serious are you? Lyme, he's." Charlie struggles to come up with the words. "He doesn't fit our image! He's not a real man. He's not like the rest of us. Pick me to be the tribute. I'm just as strong."

Before I can reply Princeton grabs the mic from my hand and starts speaking.

"Awww, sweetie you're jealous. Thank you, but you can just shut right the fuck up. Doesn't that sound nice?" Princeton blows him a kiss and winks at Charlie. I stifle a laugh as Charlie charges the stage.

"You wanna fight queeny?" Charlie throws his arms out wide.

"It's not really a fight if you don't land a hit." Princeton jumps down to Charlie's level. Charlie swings at him but Princeton expertly weaves under his arm grabs his shoulder and flings him 15 yards away. Princeton goes over to him and spits on his chest before giving his head one good kick. "Bitch."

"Princeton, if you'd please." I motion to the stage. He joins us and gives me the microphone.

"Was that really necessary?" Duchess asks him with a bite when he ascends the stairs.

"No one calls me a queen except myself." He pretends to flip his hair and stares at me with a million dollar smile. "Isn't there a little more to this ceremony before we go to the reaping?" Enobaria starts talking over the low grumbles permeating the room of trainees.

"Listen. We don't care if you like these two or if you hate them. We picked them and as your trainers, victors, and superiors I expect you all to cheer for them and be proud of your district. If we thought you could do better then we would have picked you. Ok?" A murmur of consent reaches us and she continues. "When dumb shit finally comes back to if the reaping is still going on drag his ass there. Other than that I'm expecting all of you in your appropriate spots in a half hour when the reaping starts." Everyone starts leaving the training room.

"Get over here." I say to the tributes. We huddle. "Listen. We're going to do everything in our power to bring your asses back. Just now as of right now there's no turning back. If you don't volunteer I'll personally ruin your lives. If you die in the arena I will make your memory a legend, and if you join us as victors you'll have done that much for yourself." Duchess and Princeton both nod silently.

"Like I said. We picked you for a reason. We don't care who you love or how much of a bitch you are. Just get in there and kill some people is that understood?" They continue nodding. "Good."

"To the reaping with both of you." Enobaria says.

They leave confidently with their heads held high. There's nothing quite so bittersweet as when two tributes both believe they're the one coming home.

I guess we'll see how this year goes.

* * *

 **Teak Ryeman - District Eleven Mentor**

"How're you feeling today Mr. Ryeman." Cali's face zooms in and out of focus. First blurry then crystal clear and always somewhere in between at the same time.

"Ummm. It hurts. A lot." I reply curtly. I slam my fists against my head trying to make it all go away, but I know it won't. I'll never stop trying though. "And it never goes away. Ever. It always hurts and no matter how hard I try nothing ever changes." I don't yell despite how badly I want to. Cali and Seeder don't like it when I yell. They get scared. I care for both of them deeply, and know that I can't afford to have a breakdown with them around. They're both so small and fragile

"No one is pressuring you to do anything Teak remember that. We're just happy you're here with us." Seeder's quiet but rational voice finds me. It helps calm me down. I feel my arm twitch with anger and so badly do I just want to punch someone. Something. Anything. I bite the inside of my cheek and squint my eyes so hard that it hurts but I managed to hold my arm still.

"Can you define 'it' for me Teak? You talk in these pronouns and I think it would help your grip on reality if we really discussed some of these abstract concepts you see." Cali says. She sits a good 20 feet away from me. She says it's for her own safety, even after all these years she's still afraid of me.

"Do you blame her?" The voice in my head lilts.

"I don't blame her. She's just protecting herself." I whisper under my breath. Cali likes to pretend as though what I hear isn't real. She doesn't understand. It's real. Just because she doesn't see it or hear it doesn't mean it's not real. It's her fault. The whole Capital's fault. They did this to me. The memory burns into my head as though it happened yesterday, not years ago.

 _"Run Teak!" Kevan yells at me. The mutts start to surround him. The gray skinned nurses that have syringes for fingers and razors for a smile. One starts to wrap her fingers around his neck and the needles start to pierce the soft parts of his throat. He releases a blood curtling scream and I can't fight my impulse to save him._

 _Scythe in hand I barrel in swinging wildly. I take down two, three in strong strokes. Flecks of maroon blood splatter across my face. The mutts collapse on the ground gurgling on it. I grab Kevan by the collar and drag him a few feet away. He barely breathes and blood continues to leak from the wounds in his neck. His eyes start changing to blue and his lips pale._

 _"Kill me." He chokes out. Without thinking, without remorse or guilt I hastily drag my scythe blade across his neck. His cannon sounds a second later. I sit back in relief, glad Kevan didn't have to suffer. A gruff moan comes from behind me and one mutt reaches for me and pierces my thigh with a needle. I watch the silvery liquid pump into my vein, paralyzed with fear._

 _It takes me a few more seconds before I react but I grab my side arm and stab the nurse in the temple. It stops moving._

 _"Hello Teak." My mind speaks to me._

I prayed that if I won the Hunger Games that they'd be able to cure me. But I come back to find out that it was all experimental and this is just my life now. After all, they never sicked the mutts on a career. Who would've guessed that some farm hand from 11 would make it back?

"Fuck!" I bark out sharpy. I pound my fist on the table 7, 8, 9 times before I stop. "It hurts!" Cali jumps from her seat and Seeder stays still.

"Teak enough." Seeder says in her demanding tone. She is merciful and fair but unyielding. I grab a book nearby and smash it against my head. The pain makes the voices flow into nothing until the only sound in the room is my heavy breathing.

"Teak, come back to me ok?" Cali coaxes. "Tell me. What was that? Did you see something or hear something? Tell me so I can help you." She sits back down and I notice that she has a knife at her side. She doesn't trust me. She's ready to kill me if she has to. She's probably another mutt. A beast to kill me.

My eyes drift to Seeder. I focus on her smile to distract from everything. It's small and warm and makes me feel safer.

"Sorry. I'm back with you Cali." I shift my gaze from Seeder to Cali and sink back into my chair, unaware of how tense I was. A knock at the door steals both our attention.

"It's me, can I come in Cali?" Chaff questions from the other side of the door.

"Yeah it's just the two of us, you can come on in." I exchange questioning glances with Seeder. Two of us?

"Teak I need you ready in less than a half hour. We have this thing that happens every year, called the reaping. I need your ass there soon, we're mentoring this year." Chaff scratches his back with one hand and holds a flask in his prosthetic.

"He'll be on his way." Cali says with a pleasant tone. Always so friendly to everyone else. Chaff exits rolling his eyes and taking a shot.

"What do you mean. Just the two of us?" I ask Cali looking back and forth from her to Seeder.

"We're the only ones in here Teak. Do you see someone else? How is ..." Cali's voice is drowned out by a high pitched whine coming from Seeder. Her eyes go black and her skin peels away into nothing.

* * *

 **Enobaria Sebert - District Two Mentor**

Lyme sits next to me and leans forward placing her elbows on her knees. She stares at the wooden panels on the stage, I'm sure deeply thinking about something that doesn't matter. I lean back into the chair and cross my legs. I run my tongue over the tips of my teeth and taste blood. I'll admit it wasn't the most gracious way of winning the Hunger Games. But no one will ever forget me as the girl who ripped out someone's throat with her bare teeth.

Not that I'm complaining, but getting my teeth surgically altered into points has been quite the process. It really doesn't help that I have to get them re-done every year, after all I can't let down all my adoring fans in the Capital. My mere existence is a hot commodity to those idiots.

Gotta love them.

"Welcome one and all to the 66th Hunger Games. My name is Mia and it's true pleasure to be here with you. I would like to begin with a reading of the Treaty of Treason. In penance for their uprising..." I zone out as the beautiful scantily clad girl keep spewing. I personally always thought it was particularly dull, but I'm ok with a small history lesson every now and then. It takes practically a year before Mia finally goes over to the reaping bowls.

"For the men. Taylor McLender." A 15 year old stands up out of obligation before Princeton's voice shouts out.

"I volunteer as tribute." He makes a show of walking to the stage giving hugs and high fives to everyone around him. He even pats a peacekeeper on the back. Say what you will about Princeton being over the top or spoiled, the kids got personality and spunk. Wouldn't have been my choice, but I like the kid. I take a long look at him. Broad strong shoulders with biceps the size of my legs. His grin is perfectly pearly white and genuine surrounded by a tasteful stubble beard and a short military peacekeeper haircut and his eyebrows are plucked better than mine. Really, if he wasn't gay he'd be the perfect District Two tribute. But half the district would never accept him. He'll do well in the Capital though.

"Thank you. I can't wait to come back and share my victory with everyone here." He says eloquently into the microphone. It's such a textbook perfect volunteer.

"For the women, Trisha Solo." An oriental girl from the 17 year old section rises. She has a decent shot of being chosen next year but for now-

"I volunteer as tribute." Ashni is my girl. Unlike Princeton she keeps a stern and emotionless expression on her face. The determination in her eyes is palpable. She has full lips and sun beautifully tanned skin. Her collarbones press out and give her an aire of superiority. Her dirty blonde hair is pulled back into a precise ponytail and practically glows in the sunshine. If she can manage to keep a level head in the arena I wouldn't be surprised if she was the victor.

"Congrats." Duchess takes the mic and starts speaking, as is customary.

"I'd like to thank Enobaria for giving me this opportunity and I would like to thank all of you for your support. I will bring honor and pride to our people. Thank you." She waves her arm and hands the mic to Mia.

"I present your tributes! Princeton Kingley and Duchess Ashni!" Deafening applause fills the open city square at the foot of the mountains. "May the odds be ever in your favor."

Duchess approaches me expectantly. "Well now what?" She asks with her hip popped to the side.

"Now you go inside that building cry about never seeing your loved ones again and then come back to me with a good head on your shoulders."

"I didn't mean procedurally. God, I'm not an idiot. I meant about him." She motions to Princeton. "I need a plan." I smile. This is exactly the type of cold blood I need running through the veins of my tributes.

"Wow. Already painting a target on the back of your closest ally. I respect that." Duchess rolls her eyes.

"We kill each other just as often as not. You know that." I flash back to historic District Two moments. Caius Rhodes killing Aurora Rupp in the finals of the 58th Games only to be killed a few minutes later. Brutus Mare killing his district partner in the bloodbath. Or even the first District Two victor ever, Natasha Weatherbee poisoning her district partner. And of course when I slit Bron's throat in my Hunger Games. Victory comes first, and every tribute knows that from our district. It's why we don't lose.

"I'll start mulling ideas over, just play friendly with everyone and once we have a feel for how all the other tributes will behave I'll give you your strategy."

"Perfect." She leaves to the goodbye rooms.

I might have a victor yet.

* * *

 **Chaff Barkley - District Eleven Mentor**

The liquor burns down my throat as I empty my flask. Teak getting therapy? Bullshit. All of it bullshit. The only type of therapy that works in this world for victors is the bottom of a bottle or a gun to the head. After all those are the preferred ways to handle victory in District Eleven. Unless you're perfect like Seeder of course, but fuck her. She thinks she's so high and mighty. Whatever.

"Chaff are you ready?" Speak of perfection on earth and she will appear. "It starts soon." Seeder's dark skin appears next to me like magic. I'll admit though, I'm not at my most perceptive right now.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah I fucking know Seeder." I crack my neck and try to walk a little faster. She keeps up with me of course, talking a mile a minute.

"I'm just saying with Teak not showing any signs of improvement we really need you to be on your game this year. It'd be nice if we could expand our pool of victors beyond just the three of us."

"Dammit Seeder. Would you please get off my back. We're not all perfect like you." I try to take another swig but nothing graces my lips.

"Oh Christ. This again? How many times do I have to tell you that I'm not perfect. I just didn't give up like you did." I stand there and stare at her until she marches away from me with her head held high as her morals.

I follow her through the door out onto the stage. An impressively large crowd of teenagers stands before me. I always forget exactly how depressed and how pathetic our district is, but the reapings remind me every year. There's not much here but dirt and death.

"Good afternoon everyone. It's a joy to be here with you all to share the experience of the reaping of the 66th Hunger Games." A man with blue skin speaks blandly into the microphone. He doesn't want to be here any more than any of us. I'm sure there are fancy foods to throw up and experimental surgeries to bitch about.

"Hurry it up!" I hollar with a laugh. A few smiles break in the crowd, reminds me that nothing makes people happier than taking stabs at the Capital. The man turns to me and speaks.

"Look, I don't want to do this either but I got a script. It'll go faster if you keep it shut. For like 20 minutes honestly." He looks so dejected. I almost pity him, but then I remember how his jacket could feed half the district for a day.

"Yes sir." I say in a falsetto.

"Now if everyone will watch this video we can keep things going." He motions to a large screen that plays a video about the Dark Days. About how powerful and incredible the Capital is and how just and perfect and oh-so-fun the Hunger Games are. It makes me sick. I could almost vomit, but that would only speed up how quickly the booze gets out of my system, and I prefer to stay as drunk as possible for as long as possible as many days as possible. The video ends with the silhouette of a man standing over a cliff with a sword held high. The ideal picture of victory incarnate.

"Now that we've watched that fun vid let's get to the reaping shall we?" The murmurs that persisted through the video go silent as everyone draws a collective last breath for whomever is going to be selected.

"Sirco Cane." The 18 year old boys slowly create a void around a particularly strong looking guy. His shoulders are broad and his skin is dark, even by our standards. His jaw stays clenched as he forces one foot in front of the other. He looks as though one word would break his resolve, but he doesn't waiver. I respect him.

"Excellent. And for the girl, Kelmentine Carresse Grasswood." As soon as the name is finished a girl from the 16 year old section makes a break for it. She shoves people from her path and wildly charges away from the reaping pens. I will for her to run, escape the plague of the Hunger Games. And for the briefest of moments it looks like she might escape, but a peacekeeper steps out from behind a building and gets her with a taser.

"Fuck." I mutter under my breath, no surprised but still resigned. She gets dragged to the stage by her hair and I take good look at her. Slightly taller than average with a round baby face, the Capital will love her. _If she becomes victor they'll do a lot more than just love her._ I shake the bitter thought from my head and reach for a flask that's not there. Klementine is thrown up on stage next to Sirco, who helps her up.

"Your tributes!" Our escort says into the microphone trying to feign excitement. I lean over to Teak who hasn't lifted his head up since he dragged himself out here.

"Dibs on the boy."

"Whatever." Sirco and Klementine go into their respective buildings and I go straight to the train. There's whisky somewhere in there. Should make this more tolerable.

* * *

 **so what do we think about these tributes? about these victors? also, do you like how it's set up? I'm trying to give a depth to my mentors while still showing the tributes personality the best I can from a reaping**

 **also! one more small detail about the blog, I forgot to include that Eleanor Trents has a nickname and it's 'Skipper'**

 **merry belated christmas and happy new year!**


	5. Brain, Brawn, and Something in Between

**as promise, right on time, the next set of reapings! I should be uploading every other friday until the story is over. I've started thinking of plots and character arcs and let me tell you I'm very excited to really dig into this batch (and kill most of them...) regardless, I hope you enjoy Han, Tannis, Drake, and Max.**

* * *

 **Han Poppler - District Ten Mentor**

"I have a good feeling about this year. You know? Just a general good feeling about it. I think we'll get a real winner." I say with a pep in my step. Tannis looks at me like she couldn't give a fuck.

"Didn't you say that last year Han?" I clench my jaw and fight the instinct to get rude with her. Tannis is easily the most depressed person I've ever had the curse of working with. I just _love_ being her only neighbor.

"And if I did Tan? What's the problem with pretending there's a bright side?" If there's one thing that I've found my entire life boils down to it's this: everything is better with a little optimism. Depression and being so negative has killed people and will continue to. Very few depressed tributes ever stand a chance, and those who come back depressed don't make it. I think of Alexandrite Demke, he died last year from alcohol poisoning, he was a career victor. If people like him, who had the world at their fingertips, don't make it then what chance does anyone else have?

"Pretending is the key work Han. I just get tired of watching people die." I know she's not thinking about all the tributes who have died, but instead thinking about Daniel. Obviously I didn't know Tannis before she brought me back from the arena. But, I've held her while she's had seizures, convulses, and I've ran to her house in the middle of the night during her nightmares. I know that she holds herself personally accountable for his death. He won the second Hunger Games and was the greatest victor District Ten has ever had.

Everyone knows that he had an inoperable brain tumor, that was the official cause of death. Yet for some reason Tannis won't forgive herself. He died the day after she was lifted from the arena. Poor stupid girl. Every year around this time she gets 'bad' and can't sleep. I can see it on her; her eyelids drop, the bags under her eyes are huge, and her temper isn't under control.

"If you're tired of watching them die then let's make this year different." I offer with a smile. I just want her to have a little hope in her life. Is that so much to ask for? Just a little light at the end of the tunnel?

"Fuck you Han." Her punches me in the arm playfully and smiles. I sigh, it's a start.

"Everyone wants to, not everyone can." I say nudging her back while winking. Her small smile falters. I think that's another line she doesn't like treading.

"Only people with enough money." She says under her breath walking away from me. Tannis holds so much guilt and pressure on her shoulders that one day it will be the death of her. I've grown up, and while being a victor is difficult, I have my coping mechanisms. From one point of view I try to make myself enjoy the victor trafficking systems. It's flattering, all the people who want to be with me and become so intimate with me. For what it's worth, the people in The Capital, barring the strange surgeries are very attractive.

I bow my head in defeat and watch her walk into the bathroom. I follow her and lean against the door listening intently. Even though I can't hear it, I'm certain she's crying.

"Just be ready for the reaping." My voice is a whisper but she replies.

"I just had to use the bathroom. God Han, can't a girl get some privacy in this place?" She sniffles loudly and her cover is broken. But I'm not her mother, nor father, so she has to learn to handle this stuff on her own. I know I did.

I walk away from the ladies room with my head held high. One man can only try so hard, and refuse to let myself become a player in her pity party. Not that I would ever say that to her face.

"Hello Mr. Poppler." Mayor Broker shakes my hand heartily. He took over a about a decade ago after the Tetran family was removed from office. Mayor Tetran's son was reaped and during the games he revealed exactly how his father was treating him. The kid died, but his father was removed from office and killed himself a few months later. Mayor Broker, a man just a few years older than me with broad shoulders and a scruffy beard, has been in power ever since and District Ten is better for it.

"Please Mayor Broker, it's Han." I say smiling.

"And how many times do I have to tell you that it's Rodrick." He returns my smile.

"Just one more time Mayor Broker, and I think I'll remember." We both share a tentative laugh. "How've things been going?"

"I swear if President Snow raises our sheep and cattle quotas one more time I'm going to have to call in a favor from District Eleven. These numbers are ridiculous." He scratches the back of his neck nervously. Ever since we started doing well the Capital has expect far more from us. Gouging us, really.

"If anyone can represent District Ten's best interests it's definitely you Mayor Brok-" He holds his hand up to me. "I'm sorry, I mean Rodrick." I blush.

"Much better, Han." He blushes back. "Thank you, that's really nice of you to say. I appreciate hearing that every now and then. Not everyone is fond of me for my dealings with other politicians."

"They're glad they're alive and have food to eat. That's what important." I pat him on the back. Really, he and I have the same job. Our job is to try and keep people alive. But I'd trade anything to have his job instead of mine.

* * *

 **Maximus Treiglad - District Three Mentor**

"You ready for this shit Treiglad?" Drake sits across from me in the dim lit bar. His face is eager and he speaks in whispers. He knows as well as I do that we shouldn't be here and what we're doing is illegal.

But who cares about that when it's the best way to feel alive? One thing I've learned in my life is that all laws and rules are options if you're willing to deal with the consequences. What consequences are there for someone like me? There aren't. I'm a victor and anyone who wants to start shit can fuck right off.

"Yeah. Still though man if we get caught." My doubt bubbles up for moment.

"We won't get caught dude! You've literally assassinated someone and you're worried about getting caught for a drug deal?"

"Shut the hell up Drake! People don't need to know that." I say through gritted teeth kicking him under the table. I can imagine it like it was yesterday.

 _"Are we really doing this Max?" Aspen Browning, my fellow victor and friend, says hushed through his black face mask._

 _"This is the plan. We're not getting cold feet in the last moments."_

 _"It's easy to be angry and to lash out Max. It's hard to forgive and continue with your life."_

 _"It's not just hard Aspen, it's impossible." I say with no emotion._

 _"We're in." Natalie says as she finished picking the lock on the door. "You're up Aspen." He stares at us, resigned, like he doesn't want to stick to the plan._

 _"This woman bought me, drugged me, and then raped me. She deserves this." My eyes hold his gaze unwavering. My resolve won't falter now. I've sacrificed too much for a chance at her._

 _"Fine." He steps in the room and loads his specially made crossbow. He shoots the EMP arrows into the corners of the room eliminating any security system we may have missed. "Do what you have to." Natalie and I dart into the room under the gale of darkness. We've studied this room and it's blueprints enough to know every single step necessary to be silent._

 _"This is her room." Natalie says as she starts picking the lock." I pull the small black dagger from its sheath. "For what it's worth Max, I think you're doing the right thing. I'll wait here while you're inside."_

 _"Thanks Natalie, you're the best." I kiss her on the cheek and slide into Jasmine's room. I hear her steady sleeping breath and fight the urge to run up and beat her. I keep my composure as I take marked steady steps across the carpeted hardwood floors. I pull a syringe from a hidden compartment that Aspen and Natalie didn't know about._

 _I reach the bed and jam the needle into her chest depressing the plunger quickly. I cover her mouth with my other hands as her eyes dart open wild with fear. In a split second she recognizes me and starts writing under my grip but the toxin works too well and she's rendered immobile._

 _"Are you scared Jasmine? You should be. I know I was when I woke up with your handwriting on my body and your friends DNA all over me. Have you ever been this powerless?" I say as I take my knife and drag it across her sleeping gown, it cuts open revealing her perfect Capital skin._

 _"Probably not. You've always had everything given to you." I slowly twist the tip the blade into her shoulder and a thin river of blood starts to seep out. I slash down her body cutting off the garment of clothing. "Is this what you like? You like when one person has all the power and can't defend himself? You like that don't you?" For a beat I want to take her and give her the same treatment she did me. Get Natalie and Aspen in here and pass her around like a whore. But then I realize I'm crying and not only disgusted with her, but with myself for even being near her. I should just leave her here. But she's seen me and there's no going back._

 _"Damn you."I slit her throat and leave her choking in her one blood. I spit on her body for good measure. "See you in hell."No better or worse for wear. I've killed people who mean the world to me, what's one less victor raping capitalite to me?_

"Dude you're the one who told me you killed her."

"Yeah while I was tripping on morphling and drugged out of my mind. I'd never trust your ass if I didn't have to." I try to laugh away the shameful memory and make a joke of the whole situation. "Besides like you haven't done fucked up shit.

"Not like that man!" He genuinely laugh and I play along for posterity. "That's the guy!" A well dressed man in a blue jacket comes over and sits next to us with a smile.

"Rumor is that you're the ones in need of some good stuff and can actually pay for it." He raises one eyebrow inquisitively. I'm sure lots of people in District Three make promises of wealth, we are one of the better places to live in Panem. Each of us pulls out a golden chip to prove our monetary worth. His eyes widen with ecstasy.

"I have it with me, just give me what we discussed about earlier." Drake immediately starts fussing with his wallet to get some money but I notice the door to the establishment open and Athea, my little sister, and her fiance walk in. They go to the bar and sit down, oblivious to what's happening a mere 30 yards away.

In a different life, when I was a good man and not some sad excuse I made a promise to her to stop all this.

"You in man?" The blue jacket guy says.

"No. I can't be anymore." I stand up quickly and leave with my dignity in hand for the first time since I was in the arena.

* * *

 **Tannis Galloway - District Ten Mentor**

My reflection looks dirty and stained. It's obvious that I haven't slept much to anyone who wants to notice and my ribs are starting to protrude from my chest. I need to find some type of food I can keep down when I shoot up on morphling.

I splash my face a few times and exit the bathroom. Just down the hall Han and Rodrick Broker, the mayor, flirt relentlessly. Anyone with half a brain could see how in love Han is with Rodrick, but Han will never do anything he knows that the life of mentor is hell enough without involving a politician or love in it. Han is lucky he still has his whole family, really he doesn't need to focus on adding a partner into it.

Whatever.

I walk over to them and bump between them a little harsher than intended.

"Miss Galloway, how's today finding you?" Rodrick asks me with his perfectly white smile.

"It's Tannis. That Galloway bullshit is for the cows and my dead parents." I turn to face them. Their toes are barely touching and I can see the red in Han's ears. For someone who has been used and passed around like Han he still blushes over a cute face. How quaint.

"My apologies Tannis."

"That's all you fucking mayors ever do; apologize. The last one apologized for beating his son, driving him into volunteering for the Hunger Games, and embezzling money from the whole district. His last apology was on a small piece of paper by his body hanging inches off the ground. I wonder what yours will be like." I spit the words, disgusted that anyone can claim to be a good-hearted politician.

"Tannis. That's uncalled for and fucking rude." Han steps in front of and defends his crush. I roll my eyes.

"Whatever, don't we all have a reaping to get to before you two start making out?" Han's face goes beat red, but Rodrick like a true politician manages to contain his embarrassment.

"You're a fucking child Tannis." Han says stone cold.

"Yes, now come with me so we can pick two more children to die." Begrudgingly he follows me with Rodrick right next to him out a few doors and onto the reaping stage.

Monica Veni, our shit show escort stands at the microphone wringing her hands staring at her watch. Another pathetic member of District Ten's higher ups. What a joke. As soon as the second hand passes the clock she starts rambling on with a lilt and the same unsavory optimism of Han. We all sit down behind her on the stage.

"Good day one and all! To District Ten's reaping for the 66th Hunger Games!" She's met with silence despite her verve. "I've got a video for you all brought straight from The Capital." She gestures to a large screen and a bland ass video about the wars of the past blares over the crowd for a few moments. I pick at my nails and watch Han lean over to Rodrick and whisper the occasional joke.

"As is tradition we shall begin with the men." Monica twirls over to the bowl and makes a show of digging through the bowl until she grabs a slip. "Ryder Hall." The 17 year old guys make an opening around a particularly shocked farmhand. He's tan, just below average height, he looks a tad bit feminine for a farmhand, but he's got a fair bit of muscle on him. He stands still with wide surprised eyes until a peacekeeper grabs him. Ryder swing a right hook at the man and starts barking. I give him top 6 and then killed by a career.

"Get off of me! Don't touch me!" He starts moving towards the stage as another pair of peacekeepers picks their brethren off the floor.

"Any words for the audience?" Monica asks him. Ryder shies away from the microphone and nods no. "Then on to the women." She grabs a slip of paper and slowly unfolds it. "Can a miss Elsabeth Ogden please come forth?" Monica speaks like this is some game show.

 _It is a game show, the prize is life and penalty for playing is death._ I snort at my own realization.

A lanky girl just shorter than Ryder starts walking through a gap in the 15 year old pen. Her eyes are stained with tears and she clings on to a pair of girls for a longer time than the peacekeepers usually allow. Her hair is long and wavy and she appears slightly younger than 15. She's a total bloodbath.

"Since I'm being so hopeful I'll take him. He has a better chance than her." Han stares at me quizzically.

"I'll take that challenge. Let's bring one of them home." He smiles.

Sure, Han. Let's do the impossible.

* * *

 **Drake Elton - District Three Mentor**

Max leaves the table with a huff and exits the shadowy bar without so much as turning back to look at me. I should follow him, he's my only real friend in the world and with a few words we could ruin each other's lives.

But then again. I came here with a purpose.

"Yeah I got cash." I finish counting out the agreed upon quantity of credits and pass it over. He methodically sets each bill down like they're about to explode. He does this three times before he uses his foot to slide a briefcase under the table over over to me.

"Have fun kid." The man looks around for a beat and leaves just as quickly as he came in. My contact wasn't kidding when he called this guy quick and easy. I wait a few minutes to seem nonchalant before I grab the case and leave the bar. This will be my entertainment while I'm in the Capital for the Hunger Games. They've got some intense drugs there, but nothing quite compared to the crazy shit that District Three scientists come up with.

 _Fuck the Hunger Games._

Today is reaping day. I scamper over to the town square, conveniently located next to victor village. Within an hour I've showered and changed and almost look presentable in front of the district. I'm not one to pander to the Capital, but looking like shit at a reaping is something they really frown upon.

Max is waiting for me in the lobby vigorously tapping his foot and checking his watch like it's a nuclear bomb about to go off.

"What's shaking bitch?" I ask punching him in the arm.

"Fuck you Drake. We have a job to do. I'm just glad you're actually dressed." I roll my eyes. Max always has these bouts where we suddenly cares about things again and the mood swings that accompany them drive me insane. Say what you want about me being a 'dried up, good-for nothing, old timer, druggie'. But, at least I've got my stance on life, I don't care. Max hasn't made up his mind, and that's the worst thing a victor can be, indecisive.

"Whatever man." I reply with a shrug. We leave the building and are instantly met by dazzling lights and a crowd of silent teenagers. For me this is the worse part, the fear in everyone's eyes. The fear of the unknown. The fear that within an hour you could lose everyone you've ever loved. I'd rather have Snow take away my family ten times than live with the fear of losing them. Or maybe I'd at least like the option of fear. I miss them so much.

Just why my little brother?

I hear his laugh in my head and bite my cheek and keep walking. _There's a fresh batch to make it go away waiting for me. Just get through this._

Yin Donghu, our escort, stands by the microphone. "...and your victors: Beetee Latier, Wiress LaChance, Drake Elton, and Maximus Treiglad." I wave at the sound of my name. A few clap for us. Most just glare at the sad bunch we really are. "Without further hesitation let's get right on the reaping." Beetee stirs in his chair and leans over to me.

"Are we skipping the Capital video? They won't like that." I scootch away from his words, not wanting to think about what the Capital wants.

"For the men can a mister Simon Chen please come forward." The 15 year old boys make a bubble around a thin oriental kid. His bottom lip trembles and I can see his chest start moving quickly. He slides his hand in his pocket and takes a hit off an inhaler before taking a few steps forward. The process is slow and arduous but eventually he makes it to the stage with wide empty eyes.

"Great. Now for our ladies." Yin slides her hand into the girl's bowl and grabs a slip. "Binary Schuyler."

"No." Beetee immediately reacts to the name sitting up. I gaze over the crowd and watch as a well groomed girl from the 15 year olds silently accepts her fate. Her blue eyes are stony as she ascends the stairs. "I've been following her education. She's a prodigy in class. Once she was of age I was going to conscript her to my research team." His words are hollow and logical. No emotion whatsoever.

"Any words from our tributes?" Yin asks. Simon swallows a lump in his throat and shakes no while Binary grabs the mic.

"I look forward to this challenge and hope to see you all again soon." She sounds determined.

"I want her." I say to Max unsure why I care.

"She's yours." He says staring at the ground. "Maybe she can do it."

Maybe she can. Maybe I can.

* * *

 **I've re-written this so many times trying to get it right, hopefully you enjoy it, this chapter (mostly Max) plays with a lot of really dark themes that victors have to deal with.**

 **sorry if there are a plethora of typos, I proof read this today and I'll admit I'm kinda sick and on a lot of dayquil. tell me what you think and I hope you enjoy :D**

 **see y'all in 2 weeks!**


	6. The Alter and the Door

**as I'm sure you've noticed this is very very very very late. my life has gotten really crazy the past few weeks and school and my new internship and new job come first. I promise the story will continue. let me know what you think of this drama filled chapter! I should be back in 2 weeks with 5 and 8 have a good one y'all**

* * *

 **Vance Verbank - District Nine Mentor**

"You're literally the biggest pain in the ass." I screech at Tanya.

"Oh like you're some special type of perfect God that was sent to solve all my problems. I'm really glad that you're here to pay all my bills." She rolls her eyes screams as she goes.

"I pay for literally everything you own! Now just imagine if I left you like you deserve!"

" _Deserve?_ That's really rich coming from a murderer! You should have gotten what you deserve a few years ago when they plucked you outta that shit hole instead of my sister!"

"You just love bringing that up don't you Tanya?" Images of Daniela flash across my mind. Her laughing during the interview. How fast she ran to the cornucopia. Her natural skill with a sword. The scorpions poisoning her. Slashing her throat as a mercy killing. No one believes me, but I did her a service. Then I came home and fell in love with her sister in my grief..

Aint my life great?

"All I know is I'd rather have her back than this shit show marriage!" She grabs her ring off her finger and throws it at me, not the first time it's happened and it won't be the last. Honestly, I stopped buying her real diamonds for how often she loses them. "Fuck you Vance!"

"Oh sure Tanya. Fuck me. Fuck me because I didn't want to die and I refused to kill myself, fuck me. Yeah." I can practically feel the steam pouring from my ears and I lash out. "You've got ten seconds to get out of my house before I grab my crossbow and make sure you never walk again." Her face immediately goes stoney. She knows my threats aren't in vain. It wouldn't be the first time I've maimed someone out of anger, and honestly it won't be the last. But what can they do? I have victor status.

"You're a shit human being Vance." She says grabbing her jacket quickly and dashing out the front door.

"But I'm alive." I whisper to myself, and that's all that I fucking care about. I turn back and walk into the kitchen and look at the source of the fight. A sunny side up egg, with the yolk broken. Staring at me, almost laughing in the bacon grease. Maybe Tanya's right and I'm 'too stupid to make an egg'. I'm smart enough to get out of the arena alive so really, who's the winner here? By definition me. I collapse on the divan and stare out the window across Victor's Village. By District Nine standards it's a perfect day, aside from one small detail.

Today is reaping day.

Or because my wife is a colossal bitch with no control, but that is true everyday of the year, not just one. As if my eternal damnation of guilt couldn't get any worst Kyra Barkely, the only other District Nine mentor, slowly strides across the flower patch between our two cottages. We're the only living victors and it's unfortunate, because I can't fucking stand her. She lives life in this grossly unrealistic hopeful lilt and I don't buy into it. I don't describe myself as bitter, I just am who I am. The best part about the Hunger Games is seeing Tannis, she's the only other victor with my mind set. Rather marry her than anyone else, but the children of victors don't have long lives.

Kyra has a basket in one hand and a resigned smile on her face. We do this dance every year.

 _Knock. Knock._

"Come in." I say loud enough for her to hear. The door unlatches and she walks into my living room like she owns the place.

"Vance. I made you some muffins." Kyra holds out the basket like a bomb might be inside. I huff and obliging grab the basket from her.

"Can we not do this?" I ask her exasperated. "I really just don't have the mental capacity for it."

" _This?_ You mean the part where I'm always trying to be nice to you and bring you baked good and you're an ass hole? Or the part where we're forced to mentor hopeless children?"

"The first part." I say through gritted teeth. "I can't stop the second part from happening." She releases a long pent up sigh and for a moment I fear she'll strike me. Even the most serene and steady person needs to hit someone if they're a victor.

"That's why you and I will never see eye to eye Vance." She sets the basket calmly at my feet and I watch her clench her jaw. "One day you'll see, and I hope I'm alive to see it." Kyra leaves without another word.

"Bitch." I say under my breath. She doesn't know shit. District Nine isn't full of fighters and people who can make a stand. We sew clothes together. We hem shirts. We dye cloth. We don't swing swords, or throw spears, or organize rebellions. One day she'll learn that or she'll die trying to make it happen. She's not my responsibility and if she gets herself killed that sounds like a _her_ problem.

I only look out for number one.

* * *

 **Finnick Odair - District Four Mentor**

"Today we gather to salute the best of us. The one who managed to get dragged into hell, look it dead in the eye and keep fighting until he was the last one standing. The one who single handed saved his own skin." I interrupt.

"Mags helped." I flip my hair trying to seem nonchalant about it, secretly though, I know everything I have I owe to her. My father continues though.

"The one who, with a little help, saved his own skin." I can't help but beam at his words. I'm used to being praised, but that doesn't mean I stop enjoy being complimented.

"Quit trying to look so pleased with yourself." My cousin and debatably best friend, Stephen Bouchard, elbows me in the stomach.

"What can I say I'm a narcissist not a sociopath." I punch him back. Even though it's my one year victory party he treats me the same as he did before I was reaped. He's really been a normalizing factor in my life.

"To you, my son, Finnick Odair we toast. May the waves take you." We hold a chute of champagne out and everyone echoes him.

"May the waves take you." It's an older saying in District Four, but one that my family holds dear. Usually said when someone passes away or when someone comes back from a trip or journey. The oceans have been known to take and give life. The waves are unbiased, relentless, and free just the same way that District Four citizens are. It means we're glad to have you back, and we know that sometimes you have to go. It means we love you. We all take drinks of the sweetly bitter liquid.

"Let's get on with the party! The reaping is in like 5 hours!" I say standing up hoisting a piece of cake into the air. Everyone hoots and hollers and the band starts playing big band sound jazz music. I always did love a smooth sax.

After about an hour of dancing and general frivolities I sit back down, immediately joined by Stephen and Feradre Evus the daughter of the current head gamemaker. I lean back into my chair unbutton my shirt one more notch and smile at her. I swear I watch her blush.

"So has your mom been working on the arena a lot recently?" I say licking my lower lip. All she's told me is that water plays a huge role, but that doesn't really narrow it down.

"Come on Finny, why would I tell you?" She smirks with an eyebrow raised, a challenge.

"She calls you Finny? That's literally perfect." Stephen says through bouts of laughter.

"Shove it Stephen!" He stops chuckling slowly and takes another bite of seaweed loaf. "Please Feradre? It's not like it'll make a huge difference. As soon as I know what the arena is I'll plan accordingly. It's just a matter of time you know?"

"He's got a good point Fera. It's like a little jump on a small secret will really change much, we all know Finny will mess it up." Stephen says struggling to keep a straight face. I roll my eyes at him careful not to let on that I'm actually very worried about my first tribute. I'm not Mags, that's for sure.

"Well, I already told you about how my mom said that it's going to be all watery right. Well get this, apparently it's some type of ice flow thing, or at least the cornucopia is and she's been working on this type of organic rock that is actually live. I'm not exactly sure what she's doing with it. I was snooping around and she had all these designs of aquatic creatures with stone skin, crazy shit." I stare at the ground racing a mile a minute. The water part was great, I love that and so does anyone from District Four. But icy waters? That's not really our thing. We deal more with coastal warm waters and tropical type fish, not everyone here knows how to identify cold water fish.

Also, who the fuck likes the cold? No one.

"That's kinda really terrifying." Stephen breaks the silence that sits between the three of us. Much like myself he's very skilled in these social situations, I'm lucky he's my cousin and friend. "Maybe we should get back to the dancing?" He offers with a smile.

"You two go ahead, I'll catch up in a few minutes." They both leave and go over to the dance floor. I take a second to admire the party that's being thrown in my honor. I'm truly proud of myself for getting back, but at the same time I don't know why everyone else is so damn proud for me. It's just a title, victor. People title themselves everyday, there's so much more to me than just being a victor and that's all that people seem to fixate on anymore.

I don't know, life was pretty good before. Now people are just more superficial and I have a lot of money. I shouldn't bitch or criticize though. There are 23 bodies compared to my one life, and that's the way I prefer it.

Or maybe I don't. I'll never know.

"You ready Finnick?" Chelsea Green, the other mentor this year, comes up to me with a swish in her hips and a smirk on her lips.

"For?"

"Our tributes."

* * *

 **Kyra Barkley - District Nine Mentor**

A plethora of words come to mind to describe Vance as I stride across the green lawns to my house. Disappointing. Ignorant. Hopeless. Dead inside. Pragmatic. Antagonistic. Rude. Sullen. Depressed. Pisses me off.

When I reach my front door I wipe my feet on the mat and pretend like I'm wiping off all of Vance's negativity with the dirt. There's a reason he's never been able to save anyone and I have. I'm not a perpetual pessimist. In a world where there's so much death and powerlessness and cruelty I try to be a little ray of sunshine. Sure, my life hasn't been sugar coated, I've killed to get where I'm at. But you don't get to pick the life you're born into you only get to pick how you respond. And I responded to all the pain and negativity with life. With my life, and the life of my two amazing children.

"Mom!" My daughter's voice blares through the house the moment I open the door. "Billy ate my muffin!" I walk into the kitchen and true to her word, Billy is eating Payden's muffin.

"Well" I kneel in front of her and tap her on the nose "I guess I'll just have to give you a cupcake to make up for it." Her face lights up and Billy spits the blueberry muffin out on the table.

"No fair!" He barks at me.

"Stealing isn't fair. We don't take from sissy ok?" He pouts but nods at my words. They're only 4 and 5 so it's a constant show of teaching them lessons and building their vocabularies. I love them more than anything.

"My beautiful wife." Marcos walks into the room, his shoulder broad and his face unshaven. I can't help but smile at him. I love him more than I ever thought possible. He's held me on my worst nights and stroked my hair with sweet words of a better day. He's my ray of hope in the world.

"My love." We kiss quickly and the kids both make faces at us. "Mommy and daddy do that from time to time." I tell them sticking my tongue out at them.

"What're we gonna do today mom?" Billy jumps from his seat asking. I had Payden a cupcake from the top shelf and sit between them.

"I have some business in town I have to attend to. I'm going to be gone for a few weeks, but daddy will still be here." I tell them every year, but I don't think they understand what the Hunger Games are yet, let alone the role I play in their perpetuation.

"In fact shouldn't you be going soon?" I quickly check my watch and start frantically getting ready.

"I should have left about 10 minutes ago actually!" I kiss my husband and hug both my children and dash out the door, keenly aware of how late I'm going to be. I arrive at town square low on breath and tired. I'm getting too old for this bullshit, I'm over 50! The mayor gives me angry eyes and Vance sits up there shaking his leg avoiding eye contact. What a pathetic bunch we must look like to the other mentors. I climb the stairs quickly and the escort goes straight into their speech about history and reapings and all that fun stuff.

"Way to go Kyra." Vance says under his breath. I ignore his comment and keep smiling ahead. "At least be on time, it's an amateur mistake." Biting the inside of my cheek I continue to ignore him.

"Now, without further adue. Let's pick this year's tributes to represent District Nine the Hunger Games!" The escort claps her tiny hands and heads over to the female reaping bowl and dips in grabbing the top slip. "For our ladies can we have Eleanor Trents please come forward!" Almost instantly a girl bolts from the 15 year old area putting as much distance between her and the encroaching peacekeepers as possible. Her head swivels constantly keeping tabs on them and she adjusts course to avoid them as well as she can.

But, like all good things, the show comes to an end. The peacekeepers and just bigger and faster than she is. One hold a gun to her head and brings her up on stage. She has tears streaming down her face, she takes the mic when the escort offers it.

"You can call me Skipper." She hands it back and tried to give the audience a half smile. It comes across as sad, she tried so hard.

"So much excitement! Now for the boys!" She takes her time digging through the bowl and even listening to certain slips of paper before she finally picks one. "Avitus Ardelean." Nothing happens at first. "Avitus Ardelean."

A boy, 18, and clearly shell shocked starts walking forward. I can see himself compose the closer and closer he gets to the stage and by the time he's reached the top of the stair it's as though he's already accepted his part in the game to come. That's when the name clicks in my head. Ardelean. He's the son of the capital women who lives here with the Secretary of Treasury here in District Nine. I can't pretend to be familiar with his story, but I know his brother died a few years ago in a district wide rebellion that I helped organize.

"I want him." I say without thinking. Maybe, I can make it up to his family for indirectly causing their son's death by saving this one.

"Whatever." Vance deadpans.

They shake hands and I smile. This year could be historic for me.

* * *

 **Chelsea Green - District Four Mentor**

"Now are you sure this is what you want Dawn?" I ask steadily. When a victor's children goes to the Hunger Games it's usually not by choice.

"I'm positive." She says with surefire grin. Her father is the head trainer here in District Four. Her mother though is Pandora Clarity, victor of the 24th Hunger Games from District Two. It's rare that a victor moves from one district to the next but Pandora was just so taken by the oceans and her husband that she couldn't help but stay and marry Reynolds Sinclair. They're a little older now, they waited quite a while to have a kid, but they're still pillars in the victor's community of District Four.

Dawn was a year old when I was brought back from the arena, and I've watched her grow up. I've helped train her myself. If this is what she wants, then I know for a fact she'll be coming back to us.

"All I'm saying is, do this for yourself. Not for them. It might be what they want from you, but they love you more than the concept of your victory." The words slip out of my mouth.

"Chelsea, I know what you're trying to say, and I want this for myself just as much as they do. You don't need to worry about me." She gives me a big smile, always the people pleaser. I'm honored to mentor her this year. Finnick can have the boy.

"Let's get going." I usher and a few other trainees to the reaping. "Now remember boys, I know none of you are 18 yet and that none of you planned on volunteering, but if you volunteer we'll support you and do our best."

"Plus you'll be the first victor I bring back." Finnick interjects with a sly smile. I bite the inside of my cheek. I find his cockiness insufferable.

"Knowing you you'll get them killed in the first 5 minutes!" His cousin Stephen says. Everyone laughs. I roll my eyes.

"Get in line and register already." I bark at them, begrudgingly they obey. "Fucking kids." They're so young and idealistic and reckless and have no idea what the Hunger Games has in store for whichever of them are ballsy enough to volunteer. I thought I understood the promises of glory and the price I'd be paying. Damn was I wrong. Feeling the pulse beat out of someone as you hold them to your chest is a feeling no one should ever have to experience.

Yet here I am.

"Welcome all! Welcome to the reaping for the 66th Annual Hunger Games! I am your escort Ludacris Chesterton Marigold the Third. It will be my honor to reap from you a pair of youths to be tributes in the upcoming festivities." Our new escort takes his job seriously and with a plethora of enthusiasm. His falsetto rings loudly in the echoes and my instinct tells me to toss a knife down his throat. Based on Finnick's squirming I assume he feels the same.

"Let's begin with the women!" Yes, get my girl up here. "Britt Everette." A girl in the 13 year old pen raises her hand, full knowing that Dawn will volunteer.

"I volunteer as tribute." There she is! "She takes her time flipping her hair over her shoulder and shaking hands with a few of her fellow trainees as she ascends. She looks comfortable, happy, and strong. I follow her eyes gaze to her parents both beaming with pride and joy. She reflects that back on the ground. The applause for her is deafening.

"Congrats, what is your name dear?" Dawn takes the mic politely.

"I'm Dawn Sinclair, daughter of Pandora Clarity and Reynolds Sinclair and I am the next Hunger Games victor!" She sounds like she means it, like she wants it. But I know how adrenaline feels when you volunteer. We'll see how fast the fire in her chest burns out when she's away from her parents.

"Wow! Strong words from a beautiful and strong women! Let's see who will join her!" Ludacris goes over to the men's bowl and plucks a name out. His eyes immediately go wide as he says into the microphone. "Stephen Bouchard."

The crowd, once booming for Dawn, goes silent. Everyone knows that Stephen is Finnick's cousin.

"Someone volunteer!" Finnick stands up and runs to the mic, his voice cracking. "You!" He points at a 16 year who wants to volunteer when he's older. "Get your ass up here!" Finnick starts crying but no one moves.

Until a peacekeeper grabs Stephen by the arm. Eyes wide and mouth agape he is easy to herd to the stage. More members of Finnick's family join in the cries for a volunteer, but no one does. Everyone just stares straight ahead, confused and shocked.

Stephen is good, but how good? Good as Dawn? Maybe? Good as the other careers? Who can tell.

"Wonderful! I love drama!" The escort booms into the mic giving Stephen a side hug.

This year is fucked.

* * *

 **drama! I love it. again, sorry for how late this is, but I'll continue to do my best to put out high quality writing as quickly as possible (which this chapter isn't sorry!)  
have a great day! leave a review to motivate me :P **


	7. For You Who Lost Your Way

**where do I begin to talk about how shitty my life has been the last month? wow. I'm so sorry this is so late. I hope you all understand that I have many other priorities the first of which is family. My mother had a heart attack about a month ago and she lives in Michigan and I live in Ohio so all my weekends have been spent traveling between here and home trying to help her recover. this stress has caused my depression to flare up and I switched meds and just, I've been extremely stressed.**

 **that being said, this story will continue and the show will go on. I'm just sorry it's so late.**

* * *

 **Wattson Rizor - District Five Mentor**

"You're not listening to me. We need to strike soon. We should have struck the moment Gracelyn got back from the Capital. We need to do something." A few of us sit around a table in a soundproof room of my house. I've designed this room to be undetectable by almost any measures possible.

"Why are you even here right now Mrs. Harker." I ask her point blank. "Shouldn't be you be in District Four? You know, where you live." I shake my leg anxiously. Meetings like these are both dangerous and, thanks to petty politics, unproductive.

"I'm here because unlike District Four, District Five has done anything to aid the rebellion recently. Did you people forget why we formed this alliance? All the lives we've lost up to this point? Are we really going to sit here and let their memories rot?"

"No, we're not. This just isn't a good time." I say forcefully.

"No a good time? How is this a bad time? Finnick Odair has District Four more active than ever and Grace is finally getting on board with the rebellion. Now is such a good time to strike!"

"Grace is barely 22. I shouldn't have to drag her into this before she really understands what she represents and what she means to the District. Let her live, and let her be happy." I slam my fist on the ground. Grace is the only District Five victor since I won the 44th Hunger Games. She doesn't need anymore bullshit than what people are already piling up on her.

"You're such a coward Wattson. Tell me, how do you manage to walk without a spine? That mechanical leg of yours must be stronger than I thought." She stands an spits the words out at me, a nasty thing to say. I feel my skin boil.

"Enough." I bark standing up in the process. "I mentored your son and wept with you when he died. I promise that I will forever be at your side for what we've accomplished in honoring him and so many other tributes. But the next time you speak to me like that will be the last time you are able to speak." She sits down still visibly angered. "Don't think I'm unfamiliar with how Avoxes are created. It would be a shame if someone found out you were here."

She stares at me with wide eyes. Very rarely do I raise my voice, and even rarer to I make threats. But anyone knowledgeable with how I won my Hunger Games knows that I don't make threats frivolously.

"District Five will rebel. I promise you that. I promise each and every one of you that when the time comes we will stand and defeat The Capital." They all stare at me silently. "But that time is not now. We are all too divided. Even between us and District Four we don't have enough envoys and we aren't coordinated enough for this."

"You would have nothing happen instead of trying to take a stand." Mrs. Harker says again.

"I would have peace for now. I've seen people in my district maimed and and shot down in the streets. We have good relations with the peacekeepers right now."

"And in a few hours they're going to drag two innocent children from the crowds to kill for their amusement. Somehow that's just to you?"

"You never listen Harker. I can't stop that from happening right now. I can keep my peacekeepers pacified and prevent them from shooting up the streets. Do you understand that or not?"

"I understand taking a position of neutrality and selling it off as power." She keeps her voice low and doesn't make eye contact. She's afraid.

"Your son stood for so much more than randomly beating someone's head in. Ripley was smart. He didn't take risks. He waited for his enemies to make errors and then he capitalized on them. Don't forget that. The game makers forced those girls upon. He was forced into a fight, not the other way around. We need to take after him and stay patient. Does that make sense?" Her eyes are damp with tears though she would deny it.

"Fuck you Rizor."

"I think it's time that you leave Harker." It's not an obvious command but she understands I'm giving her an out before she says something too out of line. I need cohesion and community between my rebels, not one impatient renegade who visits once a year and then stirs up drama. She needs to understand that this is bigger than her and her dead son. Obligingly she stands and leaves the room. I stare the faces around me. Some scared of me and what I've done to dissenters. Some stoic waiting for a command. Some, some just stare with blank eyes, we've lost so much and they're not sure how much there is to give.

"We need her Wattson." One says quietly. "She has fire, and passion. We could use a little of that right now."

"She's rash and unpredictable, and I need to know we're all on the same page. I think we can all agree on that." They nod at me. If for no other reason than to pass the time. I sigh.

"We're with you Rizor." Another exclaims. "To the death."

They don't understand. That's exactly what I'm trying to prevent.

* * *

 **Woof Faraday - District Eight Mentor**

The needle sinks into my arm easily. It's accustomed to the sensation of metal and morphling. I've tried to kick the stuff, but dammit if it doesn't make the world go away for a little bit. Which is exactly what every victor wants.

People judge me for using. Especially some of the younger victors. They have something in them driving them forward, they have patients for the world still. Or maybe they have something else entirely pushing them through the day, I'm not sure. I just know that I do morphling while some people do cocaine, some people do reckless shit.

Granted, every District Eight victor is still alive though there's only three of us. One victor, Korra Pine, from District Seven she got herself killed trying to find a rush. She was a Capital favorite, a killer in the arena but bubbly in a way that made you smile. She came back and threw caution to the wind. Skydiving. Ziplining. Jumping from building to building. Shooting arrows into the sky and proving how brave she was by standing still until they fell a foot away from her. She was the dream for The Capital.

Until she went too far.

She broke her spine trying to back flip off the President's Mansion on her 28th birthday. As it turns out, no matter how invincible you are you can't survive falling on a flag pole and being turned into a human shish kabob.

Oh well.

That's why people can judge me for something as innocent as morphling. I'm not hurting anyone. I stare at the guy across the room. I don't remember his name, never do when we shoot up, but he's my best friend. Easy going and everything runs off his back like water on a duck. Him and my wife.

My sweet, weak, agreeable wife. We were betrothed to each other before I was reaped, District Eight is a little old fashioned in that regard, or at least it was. I came back a hollow murderer and she learned quickly that despite a few backhands, all the money in the world with satiate a person. She doesn't care what I do, hell she pretends to love because I gave her the world.

In another life, where I don't know what it feels like to hold a friend until they choke on their own blood, where I didn't turn to violence when we fight, where she didn't have the curse of wealth looming over her head every day I think we could have loved each other. We were certainly young and very passionate about the betrothal when I was reaped. She bawled more than my late mother and sister. She was the reason I fought to get back. When I did though, I wasn't the man she wanted but it was too late.

Now here we are so many years later. I really don't care what anyone thinks of me. I have my money and I have my high. The important things in life. I'm not hurting anyone, at least not anymore. Between Maddix and Natalie we make a sad bunch, but a prideful and successful bunch. They take their jobs seriously and I'm the crazy old man everyone gets to laugh at. It works for us.

A few hours of the high passes and soon I come back down to reality. The sobering up process is never fun. The colors seem duller, nothing quite smells right, and everyone moves so quickly. The hustle and bustle of survival is near to the hearts of many in this shit hole. Everyone's always moving so fast. Getting that bolt of fabric and learning to sew this stitch to impress this ass hole from the Capital. It's all too much for me. I believe in breathing in truly living in peace and relaxing.

As I walk to the Capital building with my fellow mentors I think about how privileged a position that is. Merely having the ability to relax is something not many will ever know about in this District.

But I earned this. I earned the right to do what I want when I killed those boys. I might not have the most kills under my belt but when your arena is nothing but an endless expanse of dark killing was more luck and less skill, probably the only reason I was able to win. I was lucky enough to grab a spear not impale myself on one.

I look to Maddix, talking with Natalie. Looking strong as he walks his voice sonorous and unyielding. He's still a fan favorite for being so willing to kill. He's the only one I've been able to bring back in almost 60 years of mentoring. I'm glad he's the one. He's strong and brave and brings pride to us all.

And he brought back Natalie. Beautiful, sleek, and mysterious Natalie. My fellow mentor for these games. She's got ambition and rebellion in her soul, it'll get her killed some day but I don't have the nerve to tell her that. She's got to learn on her own that actions have consequences. She has the gift of youth though, so for now I'll let her learn.

I chuckle to myself. Youthful, brave, and strong. People used to call me those things. My how times change.

* * *

 **Gracelyn Cassock - District Five Mentor**

"It's going to be a good day." I whisper to myself full knowing that today, in fact, will be a shitty day. Reaping day is never fun for literally anyone ever, barring the careers, but I don't think about them. As much as I hate to admit it though, there are a few perks about reaping day. It means I can finally get back to the Capital and see my friends Max, Natalie, and Aspen. A rough rag tag group of victors who won less on brutality and more on skill and luck. Frankly, I think we're the only sane mentors there are. As much as I love and respect Wattson I wouldn't say that sanity is one of his strong points.

"What's that?" Wattson says with a gruff tone.

"Nothing, just ready to see what type of tributes we're working with this year." It's not a lie. I would like to have a victor I can call my own, it's a type of status symbols to the other victors. People like Mags, Andromeda, Jeremiah, and Daniel are all highly respected by everyone because of the lives they've saved. Or were respected, Daniel has been dead for a while now. Though tales of his glory are still thrown around the mentor's room. This will mark my 5th year of mentoring, and a success rate of 20% would be impressive by anyone's standard.

"I agree. Hopefully we get a good pair. Maybe have someone join us." He looks to the ground, surely thinking of tributes from the past. So many years of failures and only me to show for, to which I'm grateful, but still.

All in one swift motions the lights flare up and blind everyone on stage for a moment as our eyes adjust. The theatrics of all this really are the worst part. Fine, make us kill each other but don't make it look so glamorous and luxurious.

"Welcome one and all! To each I welcome you!" Our extremely flamboyant genderfluid escort, Taylor, takes the stage. They're wearing lots of bright neon orange and yellow making it impossible to look directly at them in tandem with the lights. "Let's begin with our amazing historically accurate video all the way from the shining glory of the Capital!" They motion dramatically at this giant screen and some bullshit about the wars of the past plays. I chew my nails and stare out at the poor vulnerable kids. I try not to view them as victims, but what this country does to them can be described as nothing short of victimization.

"Excellent! Film!" Taylor wipes away a tear and goes over to a bowl of names. "I think that we should start with the ladies this year. Doesn't that sound like fun?" They receive no reply from the crowd. "I said doesn't that sound like fun?" Again silence. I bite my cheek and reply to them, if only to get things moving.

"We're all just holding our breath with anticipation! Of course it sounds perfect!" I try to sound preppy as though this isn't as fun as a funeral.

"Thank you Gracelyn!" They boom searching for a fitting slip of paper. "Mara Werth!" The 16 year olds form a bubble around a girl with long blonde wavy hair and spectacular hazel eyes. She looks to the ground for a moment and steels herself walking forward. As she reaches the stage I notice that she's actually quite beautiful, a few freckles tastefully dot her face. She stands with her shaking hands hidden behind her back and puts on a brave face.

I continue surveying her body and find a few scars horizontally along her wrists. Past issues perhaps? I'm too far away to see how recent they are. It makes one thing clear though, this girl hasn't had an easy life. And it's only getting worse today.

"Congrats Mara! Let's pick a man now!" Taylor grabs the boys bowl and takes the first slip off the top. "Randall Everette" A 12 year old boy immediately starts bawling as his older brother, apparently 13, starts to walk up. A father begs the crowd for volunteers screaming hysterically. Though as so many before him he's met with silence.

"Sure, I volunteer." Everyone accept the 12 year old goes silent and stares at a boy in the 17 year old pen. He's got short dirty blonde hair with a sharp jaw line that offsets his otherwise boyish features. He walks calmly to the stage, right past Randall. Both are expressionless. He reaches the stage and Taylor hands him the microphone.

"My name is Rai Caheyl, and I guess I'm your tribute." He's met with applause from the father and dead stares from everyone else. He hands the microphone back to Taylor who doesn't know how to advance. We haven't had a volunteer in, well in years!

"Keep talking." I say loud enough for Taylor to hear but without shouting. "Do something!"

"Congrats to our two tributes for the 66th Hunger Games: Mara Werth and Rai Kalee."

"It's pronounced Caheyl, kinda like the vegetable." He says nonchalantly, like this is an interaction he has every day.

"Right. Caheyl." Wattson leans over to me.

"I don't want that kid. I don't know why he would volunteer and I don't want to know. Plus the Caheyl's are some messed up people. Do you know about his father?" I shake my head no. "He's one of those fringe scientists who work way out on the outskirts. I'm not dealing with the offspring of that."

"May the odds be ever in your favor!" Taylor says with a finality.

I stare at Rai, my newest tribute and beg to know. Why the fuck did you volunteer? And is there any way I can save you.

* * *

 **Natalie Argyle - District Eight Mentor**

Woof chuckles quietly to himself as Maddix and I hold a conversation about this and that. Small talk and bullshit about the weather. I really never could talk to these two, maybe it's the age difference or the fact that Woof has a few bolts loose or that Maddix might be the angriest person to have ever won their freedom in a fight. Either way, District Eight isn't the pinnacle of functionality.

"What was that Woof?" I ask him, trying to coax the usually mute old man out of his shell. He just waves at me and rolls his eyes. I try not to take offense, but it's rude and condescending as fuck. I just want to pretend that things are normal for a little bit. Every now and then I just want to be a regular girl walking through her hometown with a pair of acquaintances.

But I haven't had such a ridiculous luxury in years. Regular isn't one of the many words I could use to describe myself.

Ambitious. Killer. Defensive. Mentor. Passionate. Assassin. Lover. Understanding.

Alone.

Regular is the one thing all the money in the world can't buy me and it's the one thing that I want back.

"Do we really have the same freak as last year?" Maddix says squinting his eyes as we near Town Square. The mayor and our usual escort Hubris stand on the stage chatting about something as the glass balls are brought out and filled with names. Today someone dies, and those stupid things are how we decide.

"Looks like it." I stare at Hubris, one too many surgeries have made him an unfortunate sight for sore eyes. A zebra like mohawk juts from his head and whiskers cover every inch of the poor man's face. He looks like a mistake God spit on the world.

And that's not ever without going into his outfit.

"Great, I hate this fucker." Maddix storms off, probably to get some booze, Woof and I go straight to the stage and take our seats. Plenty of people are already here and ever more are filling in. Within 5 minutes Maddix is back with a flask on his hip and the reapings are officially beginning.

"It is a pleasure as always to serve the great people of District Eight! I have the honor of, once again, joining you the annual reaping for the 66th Hunger Games!" Underneath the fervor I can hear the slightest tone of contempt. Hubris doesn't really want to be here, who the fuck would? I look over the crowd and see starving depressed faces. Hollow cheeks bones. Taught arms. Protruding ribs.

These are my people.

Hubris plays some ridiculous propaganda about this war and that battle and how grateful we all should be. Bottom line is it's the same shit, they really could go without it. Just another tool in their arsenal though. Can't let an opportunity slip by.

"Let's get on with this shall we? First the women." Hubris ruffles through the sheets and grabs one speaking the name clearly. "Naomi Spindle." It takes a moment for the kids to create a bubble around her. Pale skin and long dark curly hair, she holds the hand of a friend. Tentatively she starts walking forward without any tears. She looks so middlingly average, a few muscles from some type of labor but nothing incredible.

"Congrats dear!" Hubris screeches when Naomi is on stage. That's the straw that breaks the camel's back and the terrified girl starts to choke back sobs are cry. It's such a human react to such an inhuman circumstance. "For the boys can I have a mister Calico Lea join us?"

After a beat a very tall and lanky pretty boy from the 17 year old section starts making his way forward. Not long dreadful silence of pathway of shame, just a boy facing the end. He paws at his face, wiping away hot and angry tears. As he nears the stage I see how tightly he clenches his fists and get a better look at his face. Short hair on the sides with a mess of brown curls on top that cover his slightly large ears.

It's Maddix's laugh the draws my attention away. I ask him hushed "What?"

"That sneaky bastard is one of the best fighters in the slums I've ever seen." He chuckles more and crosses his arms over his chest and leans back. "Reckon I've seen him win all but 2 or 3 fight since I saw the kid."

"Dibs." I say keenly focused on Calico's body. A closer inspection reveals his tight but muscular arms and hearty calves. He's not starving by anyone's account.

"He's all yours. I wanted her." Woof stares at Naomi thinking God-only-knows-what.

"Tell me more about this kid Maddix." I say as the Capital anthem plays in the background.

"Why don't you ask him, after all his life is in your hands now." Maddix up and leaves.

"Yes, yes it is." What amazing things I can do with it.

* * *

 **I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I know it's not my very best work I've put forward but I still really hope I did these tributes justice. Realistically I think I'll have the next chapter in 2-3 weeks. I finished midterms recently and think I'll be able to get some writing in.**

 **again, I hope you're still with me for the long haul and I'm so sorry this is so late.**


	8. The Gangs All Here

**lil late sorry, but enjoy!**

* * *

 **Katarina Blake - District Six Mentor**

Saying that I hate everything seems like one hell of an understatement. I'm not exactly what anyone would call a 'popular' victor. My story is well known as the cowardice girl who won because if she didn't a crazed maniac would have came back. That's why the Capitol hates me. My fellow victors hate me because I'm one of two victors who didn't have to kill anyone, and of those two I'm the only one who has their sanity. Poor Wiress, that crazed woman couldn't kill someone if she wanted to.

So basically I'm the richest pariah ever to exist.

Today is actually my favorite day of the year. Reaping day. People can't ignore me today. They have to pay attention to me and have to at least pretend to like me. I'm a victor! I'm important and have power in the days to come. Despite all their bickering they know they need me to save their children. I've tried ever since I won my games, but I haven't brought anyone back. I will though. I know it.

They'll all love me once I've saved one of them.

I spend a few hours getting ready in the mirror trying on different types of gowns and shoes. Being extremely rich with no children and no boyfriend to speak of has left me plenty of time to devote myself to Capital fashion. The process is insufferable, but it's the price I pay to look my best. They need to see me as one of them.

Eventually I settle on a low cut red dress that makes me breast enhancements look even more enhanced. I know those perverted old men love a girl with curves, otherwise I never would have gotten the surgeries, which weren't nearly as expensive as people make them sound. It only cost me 3 months of my victor's year salary. I slip into the highest heels I can walk in and prance around the house practicing my twirls and pivots until I'm certain I can cross the stage flawlessly.

Once I descend the stairs into the main atrium of my mansion I'm met with the smell of vanilla and freshly made pancakes. The servants know exactly how I enjoy my food. The walk around me silently and stay hard at work in my presence. They know the last person I was displeased with I sent to the Capital as a person and came back as an Avox. I'm not a difficult person to please, I just expect them to do the job they trained to do perfectly.

"Is there anything that we can get you ma'am?" The head chef says bowing and setting a plate in front of me.

"Orange juice, and no pulp this time. Also, fetch Dane. I want him to escort me to the reapings. The old kook can get off his lazy ass and help me for once."

"Yes ma'am."

"You can go now." I say shortly. I don't like when people linger, always been a pet peeve of mine. I watch the head chef mumble to another servant they leave to get Dane for me. He might be close to hitting 40, but that doesn't excuse him from being a gentleman now does it?

I eat my pancakes as the string quartet comes and plays my favorite pieces, halfway through a set the grand piano man joins in. It's really the free things in life, like beautiful music, that make life worth living.

Everything is ruined when Dane and his peg leg burst through the door making an unnecessary racket.

"I cannot be summoned like some pup." He says in his gruff voice.

"Apparently you can." I muse while wiping my mouth. "Stop." The strings and piano finish the phrase they're on and assume silence.

"Always good to deal with you Kat." Dane says plopping down on one of my divans hoisting his peg into the air. "I always wonder what part of my body you're going to try to take off me this time around." He pops off the prosthetic and unscrews the hidden flask attached to it. He toasts to me and then chugs more than a few swigs.

"So sensitive about a small misunderstanding. Not my fault you decided to smuggle guns and equipments to rebels." I say rolling my eyes at his general unruliness. Dane could have been quite the victor, but he's nothing more than a dried up old man trying to live the glory days by helping insight riots and aiding rebels.

"I lost a leg because you shot me in the thigh and the only way to live was a tourniquet. Yet I'm the sensitive one?" He questions me, unaware of how ignorant he sounds.

"Actions have consequences." I say plainly. "It's not my fault..." He cuts me off.

"It's your fault you shot me. Now what do you want." He puts his leg back on and stands. "I don't have all day for your sorry ass."

"I'll ignore that remark, and as thanks you're going to escort me to the reaping. It is the time of the year."

"Oh joy." He deadpans. "Are you ready?" Dane asks with crossed arms.

"Do I look ready?"

"You don't want to know what I think about how you look." He tries to hide a smile.

"Classless as always Dane. I'll be ready soon."

* * *

 **Aspen Browning - District Seven Mentor**

With another swing the axe chops cleanly through tree and it falls over. I glance around at all my employees, my friends, my District Seven family; all of them working hard and diligently biting into the forest. A group of boys maybe age 16 smile and throw axes against a free a safe distance away. They think this is all just fun and games.

Everyone thinks I'm just running another lumber mill. They're so incredibly wrong.

"Ok guys. It's that time of the day." Everyone glances my direction and puts away their lumber axes in favor of the combat and throwing axes I keep stashed around. It takes a few minutes but soon enough all 45 of my prodigies are sitting before me with their gear. "Does anyone remember the last thing we talked about?" Hands shoot up and I point to a girl named Nells.

"You were teaching us proper disarming techniques." She says curtly, always a smart girl this one.

"Very good. Can anyone tell me why it's an important skill to have, the ability to disarm an opponent." Again, more hands. I call on a boy named Connor.

"Because they might have information you'd want."

"Good. Even more importantly, the Capital isn't above drugging, controlling, and manipulating tributes. You never know if someone is in the best state of mind, which is why we always want to have a peaceful option."

"At least compared to murder." My co-instructor and fellow victor Birch chimes in. "Remember if you're in that situation killing is an instinct, you just do it. We don't enjoy it, death is inevitable, but only use murder as a tool if you have to." Birch is 30 years my senior, but I respect him so much. He's kept clean almost his entire life and has managed to fight the Capital every step of the way. Setting up these impromptu training sessions was his idea. They only happen once a week, nothing like the career academy. But it's better than sitting around idly waiting for the next rich prick to come in and take whatever they want from us.

Always waiting. Always watching.

The lesson goes on for maybe another hour before we finally finish. We always close by answering one questions.

"Why do we train?" I ask in a strong voice.

"To defend ourselves and those we love." Everyone replies in unity. We're not killers, we're practical. Frankly, I'd rather have a district full of half trained kids ready to fight that be a bunch of pansies who get walked on regularly. I don't know when, but soon something big is going to happen and District Seven will be ready and up in arms.

"Y'all are dismissed. Keep practicing, and remember we can only keep this going so long as we meet our quotas so work hard y'all." I remind them. This whole process only works if we still provide the proper quantity of lumber per cycle. We stay on track, but only because these kids work their asses off. I grab an axe and join them in the labor, they work hard so I will too.

"Do you really think one of us will get reaped?" A particularly spirited 14 year old boy asks me. The type who enjoys the combat exercises a little too much, I worry he'll volunteer one day. But, I told myself when I joined this that people would die, and if he's one of them that's beyond my control.

"I can't know for certain. There are so many people who can be reaped, and we only have 3 groups of trainees. I hope that no one gets reaped later today, but if it's one of you I know you'll make us proud." I answer him honestly. I try to stay optimistic about everything it's hard, but morality is what separates us from the totalitarian Capital.

"I think I could win." He says like it slipped out of his mouth. I immediately grab him by the arm and swing him into a tree so that he's trapped between me and the towering oak.

"You never think like that." I say intensely.

"Why." He questions with wide eyes and a quiver in his voice.

"Because you never think about going into the arena until you have to. You don't think about volunteering. You don't think about what it would be like to kill someone. You don't think about what the Capital could do to you and what they could turn you into."

"But you and Birch are so cool!" He says with a smile.

"Does the name Korra Pine me anything to you?" The kid nods no. "She won the Hunger Games and felt so invincible and reckless that she eventually killed herself looking for the next biggest thrill. What about Marney Thompson?" Again, he nods no. "She was our first ever victor, she spent a lifetime of guilt over the thought of murdering her bestfriend's husband. And Birch, he volunteered for the Hunger Games because it was better than rotting in prison for a crime he didn't commit. Which one of those lives sounds desireable to you?" He stares at me and in a whispers answer.

"Your life."

"You don't want to be me kid." Flashbacks of blood spatter on my face, of breaking into house and assassinating officials, of poisoning corrupt politicians, of being branded for my crimes, of the countless nights of suffering and tears all flash across my vision.

I know what it looks like. That I'm a well adjusted victor turned freedom fighter. But they don't know what it's like to be a terrorist against a government just waiting to murder me. I don't sleep, I have to cook all my own food, and I always have an emergency button me if shit goes down so Max, Gracelynn, and Natalie know I won't be showing up to work.

"My life is hell."

* * *

 **Dane Bax - District Six Mentor**

It takes princess piece-of-shit another 25 minutes before she finishes her makeup and gives me the honor of her presence. God I hate her.

"Can we go yet?" I ask impatiently. Katarina has a way of stomping on my last nerve and just when I think I've had enough she finds a new low. Like selling me out and shooting me for example. Should have let her sorry ass die in the arena. She starts twirling around in her slutty dress and hooker heels before stopping right in front of me.

"Yes. Let's leave." She snaps her fingers and an Avox goes to open the front door for us. I reach out quickly and do it myself. I nod at the poor man I used to know as Erik.

"Thank you, but I got this one." I wink and walk out the door. Katarina huffs behind me.

"What was that?" She asks hotly.

"I opened the door because I wanted to leave. It's something people do."

"You know what I meant!" She yips.

"Oh the part where I showed someone decency and respect? Yeah I thought that might confuse you. Don't worry you'll understand when you're older." I chuckle to myself about how blatantly sold out she is.

It happened slowly. Like every victor she had the nightmares and the hatred for life and bitterness. But, unlike everyone else she wasn't a killer and had her sanity, naturally it pissed a few people off. Victor after victor either scorned her or refused to take her seriously. Maybe a year after she won she attempted suicide but ultimately failed. I remember holding her while screamed she couldn't even kill herself.

I had so much hope for her.

She started doing morphling and got in tight with a capitalite who gave her amazing deals on the drug. They started a relationship and she got pregnant. Kat was overjoyed, she carried it full term and had a stillbirth. She blamed the drugs and had her lover executed for 'trying to murder her'. Everyone knew it was fabricated bullshit, but it's hard to blame a grieving mother for wanting revenge.

She was a broken women with nothing to live for and President Snow dug his claws in and ripped out her soul. He twisted her grief and anger into a tool against the District she lived in, saying that they never supported her and sat idly as she suffered through her stillborn. I don't know how but that man changed her and took the once sweet innocent girl I brought home and turned her into a propaganda piece of trash.

I look at the whisker tattoos on her face and try to remember what she looked like before, back when she had hopes and dreams. Nothing comes to mind though. She snaps in my face.

"Have you been listening at all!?" Her face is aghast.

"Sure." I say ignoring her pouting. "Look we're here!" I say thankfully as we arrive at town hall. Hundreds of downtrodden faces stare at use with emotions ranging from contempt, to pride, to longing, to sheer and utter confusion. How are Kat and I the best this place had to offer?

The escort, a man in tight pink pleather pants greets us and gives us a rundown of the itinerary. Within an hour we're all sitting in the right places and he begins his speech.

"Welcome! To each of you to our annual Hunger Games reaping!" He talks cooly but with vigor. "Let's begin the festivities with an incredible history lesson all the way from the Capital." The same stupid fucking video as last year plays. 'War, terrible war...' I can't help but roll my eyes. I rub my prosthetic wishing I could get to the flask hidden inside it, just to make things go by a little faster. But after a few minutes of suffering it's finally over.

"I think as always, ladies first." The escort walks over the ball with the girl's names and pulls slip. "Arlette Germain." He says plainly, like it's not the life of an innocent person. A bubble forms around a 14 year old fairly short and skinny girl who looks like she was just punched in the gut. Her expression is void of emotion and vaguely creepy, though you can see the impact of the reaping dawn on her face. She joins the stage silently.

"Perf. Our gentleman will be, Nickolas Ford." A broad shouldered boy in the 18 year old section starts to walk up fighting tears until the unspeakable happens.

"I volunteer." A normal looking, if not somewhat shorter than average, and unassuming 17 year old raises his hand. Everyone is stunned. We don't have volunteers. The escort looks at me, surely expecting the proper protocol or what we're supposed to do. I just shrug.

"Welcome him to the stage!" Katarina blurts out. The escort starts waving the kid on and shoves the mic in his face.

"What's your name?"

"Einion Rutley" The kid says with a straight face.

"And why'd you volunteer?" Einion replies with nothing more than a shrug.

"He's yours." I whisper with a tone of finality. I look up and down Arlette, she doesn't look like much. A small girl in a giant brown sweater. Maybe I can make a victor out of her.

* * *

 **Birch Cooper - District Seven Mentor**

Everyone dissipates pretty quickly after the siren signals the day's end. It's much shorter than a normal day given that the reaping is soon. So no one really talks or makes conversation like they normally do. For typically such a light hearted and happy place the spirit and vigor of our district is drained today.

"That went well today." I say to Aspen. The poor kid never cuts himself any slack, the stress on his face is visible.

"Says you. I had to put the fear of God into one kid who I'm worried my volunteer someday." He rubs the back of his head angrily.

"You can't save everyone." I say plainly.

"I haven't saved anyone. That's my problem. I work my ass off for these people behind the scenes and in front of them. I just want to know I'm making the world a better place with how hard I'm trying you know?" So young. So idealistic. So naive.

"We've been over this egocentric, self esteem boosting, lovey dovey shit before Aspen. We don't do this for us. We do it for them. We're beyond saving, they're not. One day when the war of our time comes they're going to be the soldiers, and we're going to be the memories. Quit praying for the glories of future when we still have the task of today." He sighs, resigned. He knows I'm right he's just a stubborn little shit.

"Yes, oh wise sage." He says punching me in the arm playfully. Maybe we'll get a winner this year." I roll my eyes.

"You haven't said that in a few years, what's the occasion." He shrugs.

"I just have a great feeling about our chances, we're due for a win." There he goes thinking about statistics and numbers and shit.

"That nerd from District Three's got your head all jumbled up. We win when we win. That's it."

"His name is Max, and he also busts his ass for everyone."

"I try not to learn names, makes it easier when they die." I say deadpan. I've lived long enough to see the rise and fall of victors. If there's one thing I've learned it's that any day could be the tipping point. The Capital might get tired of you and send an assassin to kill you. You could kill yourself. Or you could just have a heart attack. I try not to make plans past tomorrow.

"Cynical bastard." Aspen chuckles.

"You're not wrong."

We walk to the reaping together, covered in dirt and sweat from hard work. It's a small rebellion, but it makes us both feel a little bit better. Our prissy escort rolls his eyes at us and whines about how grimy we look. We ignore him and take our seats. We've been around the block and know how this works. Within due time the events are underway.

"Good afternoon to you District Seven! It is with great honor that I am with you to reap your next set of tributes for the 66th Hunger Games! So exciting!" He trills like a child. "First, a video from our savior President Snow and his associates at the Capital." He claps madly as a project starts a video about wars of the past. It ends and the real 'fun' begins.

"Let's begin with our ladies!" He flips over the bowl, literally flips, and grabs a name. "Delilah Landry." A 17 year old with long beautiful brown hair starts to wail. A bubble forms around her except for one red head girl who clings onto her. She grabs Delilah's face whispers something in her and yells.

"I volunteer as tribute." The new girl rushes the stage as Delilah cries into the shoulder of another person. Our escort hands her the microphone promptly.

"Who are you darling?"

"I'm Juniper Smith, and I'm your tribute." She says sounding empty. She doesn't yet realize what she's done, I can tell.

"Let's go for the men now. Connor O'Malley."

"Fuck." Aspen huffs next to me, I look over at him with a questioning brow. "He's one of our students." My stomach drops.

"Then he's yours. I'll take her." A tanned broad shoulder 18 year old man joins the stage and I think about my poor volunteer. Clearly they both have muscles and have some experience with an axe, they have the bicepts to prove it. I lean back and think to myself.

 _Maybe Aspen was right. One of these two could make one hell of a victor._

"Congrats to our tributes! Juniper Smith and Connor O'Malley."

Congrats indeed.

* * *

 **I hope you like the chapter! it's currently finals, so things are a little stressed here, but my mom is at almost full health so don't worry about that. I just gotta survive this essay and I'll have a very regular schedule :D**

 **check the poll on my profile, it's about fav mentor I would love to know who y'all like so they can make a guest appearance!**

 **have a good one!**


	9. The Cradle

_hey y'all! sorry this is a little late, but! I'm officially done with my junior year at Ohio State! finals were brutal, but now this is a huge focus of mine, so hopefully I can power out a few chapters and get this show on a regular schedule! Be look here in about 10 days, maybe a little more for more!_

 _enjoy!_

* * *

 **Dawn Sinclair - District Four Female - goodbye**

"This is such a fuck story already." I say slightly on edge but forcing myself to stay calm and collected. Though the cameras can't see me in here I still need to be confident for them.

"What do you mean?" My mother, Pandora, asks me.

"He's Finnick's cousin. How am I supposed to compete for sponsors with Finnick Odair's kin." My ears feel red hot angry as I spit the words out. It's not my mom's fault, but I just want to be angry at someone. This isn't what was supposed to happen.

"Fine. He's the cousin of a victor, but you're the child of one. Or did you forget that I won the Hunger Games myself." My mom tilts her head eyebrow raised in a challenge.

"But you're not Finnick Odair. Everyone loves him." I say slightly pouting.

"And your mother is Pandora Clarity, and I'm your father Reynolds Sinclair, and you're Dawn Sinclair our beautiful daughter who's going to win the Hunger Games!" Dad speaks with zeal. He's always been the pushier of the two for me to claim my title as victor.

"I know, I know, I know. This just isn't how I wanted this to go." I admit out loud. The disappointment on my dad's face is almost palpable.

"You're giving up?" He says with disgust in his voice.

"No!" I shout impulsively.

"That's it sweetheart! That's the fire I need you to have 24/7 from now on. I don't care what the Bouchard boy does and how strong any other tributes look. It's your show and your victory don't forget that." He pulls me close against his chest.

I stare at a spot on the ground as I wrap my arms around him. I try to tell myself that he's right, that this is what I've always wanted and that I'm going to walk into the arena and have no issues. I know I'm skilled and strong, but at the end of the day I'm not sure if this is what I want. I want to know who I am and what type of person I am. I want to be a victor like my mother. I want my father to be proud of me, I want his validation to be real not something that mom has to choke out of him, and if this is what I have to do to earn that pride then so be it.

I just don't want to kill for it.

"Hun, can I have a little alone time with Dawn before she goes?" My says prying him off of me.

"Of course darling." He kisses me on the forehead. "Don't let me down in there." As he turns and I leave I will myself to say something. Anything that would make him realize that this is a competition where anything can happen.

"If I come back I hope you'll be proud of me." The words bubble out of me and I'm mortified with myself. I typically keep things like that to myself. My pulse immediately skyrockets and my hands sweat. He turns to me with a stoic expression and emotionless eyes.

"That'll depend on the nature of your return. If you come as you are or." He drags a finger across his throat.

"That's enough Reynolds." My mom says sternly. He exits. "I swear that man." She rolls her eyes into her head and I embrace her in a hug.

"Thanks mom. For everything." Tears well in my eyes but I don't let them fall.

"Don't thank me yet." She pulls away from me and holds my shoulders and stare me in the eyes. "Listen to everything I'm about to say. These games are meant to test you in the cruelest ways possible. I can't promise what you'll find in the arena but you'll never be 100% prepared for it. I went into my games so surefire and kill crazy, I made it out on mostly luck. Don't make the mistake of thinking that the best way to win is by killing, because it's not. It's about living." Her words flow over me and comfort me. My mother is easily the wisest person I know. She's my hero, she continues.

"You're personable, strong, and so skilled. Some people will be intimidated by you and scare and other will view you as a challenge to overcome. None of that matters so long as you who you are." She pokes me in the chest for emphasis.

"Mom." I say feeling emotions well up within me.

"Your father wanted me to give you a ring with a vial of poison in it, but I know they'd find it and find a special way to kill you." She reaches for a locket around her neck and takes it off. "This was the locket my mother gave me when I volunteered for the games. Inside she always kept a picture of my sister. I thought it'd be appropriate for you to have it now." She hands the locket to me and I pinch open the clasp revealing a picture of my parents smiling. Inscribed along the edges it says in perfect cursive _We love you_.

"This is incredible."

"Just like you Dawn." Mom says with that tone that makes you believe her no matter what she says. "You can do this and I have faith in you. Chelsea might be your official mentor and I might technically be from District Two but you'd better believe that you'll have everything you need in there." She hugs me one more time. "I love you."

"I love you too." A peacekeeper opens the door and she leaves. I can do this.

* * *

 **Juniper Smith - District Seven Female**

"You are impossible." Delilah says holding her forehead with one hand and the other on her hip. "I can't believe you would do that. Juniper it was stupid."

"Stupid?" I stare at her with wide eyes. "You have anemia. You wouldn't last a day." I stare at her thin slight frame and imagine her running through the woods and collapsing from sheer exhaustion as a pack of careers ambush her like a wild boar.

"Like you will!" She says reactionaryily.

"Longer than you!" I say with a little punch. She rolls her eyes and reminds me exactly why she's my best friend. She's a challenge to me. She can keep up with my temper take my crap and give it to me ten fold right back. She's one of a kind and I still don't understand why she spends so much time with me. She crosses her arms and stares at the ground suppressing a smirk.

"Honestly though. Why'd you do that?" Her eyes plead with me. Our friendship is build on mutual trust and kindness, and honestly I don't have it in me to lie to her.

"If I'm being honest it's because I can't stand the thought of watching you die. I have a better chance than most a winning because of all tree chopping and you know being a lumber chick and all." I tell her honestly.

"You'd risk throwing your life away for me? Juniper, I'll never be able to repay you for this. How could I?" She sounds pained but I know she's being transparent with me.

"Repay? I would risk my life for you everyday to keep you safe."

"This isn't going to be a bar brawl with your older brothers at your back. It's the Hunger Games Juni. People train their whole lives for this and die every year. You haven't trained at all and I don't want you to..." She trails off.

"Die." The word sits in the air. Suddenly the room feels hot and stuffy and I feel an unnecessary wave of sweat coat my entire body. I don't want to die either. But honestly, I have a really good chance compared to most people and a way better shot than Delilah could ever have. Even if she made it past the first day she'd collapse and die while trying to run away. I couldn't stand to watch that, I _like_ her.

"Yeah. That." Delilah pinches her nose and tosses her hair behind her ear.

"I won't." I whisper. I feel tears welling in my eyes and blink them away and start pacing in a circle. If for no other reason than to calm my nerves. It takes a minute but eventually I relax enough and face her once again. "I'll come back."

"You have to." Without thinking I grab her face in my hands and press my lips against hers. Once. Twice. A third time I linger and try to remember everything. The smell of pine on her clothes the subtle taste of this mornings maple syrup pancakes lingering on her breath.

"I couldn't go away without knowing what that's like. At least once." I say as soon as I pull away. Half elated and half ashamed. Her face is subtly surprised but no displeased. Or maybe I'm looking into things a little too much. Maybe I can't read her face at all.

"You have to come back to me Juni." Delilah's voice is resilient and unwavering.

"I'm going to." I say nodding.

"I don't care what you do. If you have to bury someone or burn them alive do whatever it takes to get back here." Her tone is a far cry what the bubbly and charismatic girl I'm accustomed to. But her eyes speak to how seriously she's taking all this. "I don't know what help I can be from District Seven, but I'll figure something out. I don't know how, but I will help you." She closes the small gap between us and embraces me in a strong hug. It's a comforting, familiar, feeling.

"I'll kill them all if I have to." I whisper into her ear. I picture all the scenarios I could find myself: holding someone underwear until the drown, biting into their neck and ripping out their vocal cords, using a tree branch to pierce someone's throat as they sleep, slipping poison into an allies meal. I'll do anything I have to.

"Good."

"Time is up ladies." A peacekeeper in pearly white armor announces.

"Keep my brothers in line if they need it, you know how my family can be." I say quickly replacing the violent images in my head with those of my family, who I've already said goodbye to.

"Good luck Juni." The door closes before I can say thank you.

"Follow me ma'am." The same peacekeeper that locked Delilah out grabs me by the arm and leads me out a door where I'm assaulted by camera flashes and a swathe of reporters. I ignore their questions and walk onto the sleek train ready to begin my journey back.

I will win these games.

* * *

 **Rai Caheyl - District Five Male**

Everything is so soft. It's sad that's the first real thing I notice once I come down off the high of volunteer and being shuttled along through a process few are ever forced into, and ever fewer choose to experience. The seat is soft. The fabric is soft. The color scheme is soft. It all just makes me want to nap as we zip down the sparking tracks. I could almost tell myself that I'm relaxed. If only I wasn't being glowered at.

"So, it's Rai correct?" Gracelyn asks me with the world's most forced smile.

"That's right, your Gracelyn Cassock right?" I ask, though I know exactly who she is. You don't forget your victors quickly when your entire district only has 3, and only 1 of those is a girl.

"That's right." She stares at the floor and licks her lips searching for the right words. After a few failed attempts and plenty of hand gestures she point blank asks me. "Why the flying fuck did you volunteer?" Gracelyn grabs a stool and sits directly across from me, but just too close. It too look incredibly soft.

"Well." I wrack my brain for the proper way to explain everything to her. I let my impulse boil to the surface. "Freedom." My shoulders seem to relax even further and I lean back into the plush train seat.

"Freedom?" She breathes heavily. "What part of this is going to give you any freedom?" She questions me indignant. I didn't expect her to understand, how could I? How do you explain to someone that your whole life has been one guinea pig experiment after another? How do you explain to a total stranger that your father viewed you as a petri dish and not a son? I'm not sure I could ever really be able to divulge all that to someone. Let alone someone I barely know and don't really trust.

So I shrug at her.

"Oh no. You're not getting off the hook that easily shit for brains. You're going to sit there and give me the information I need to know to save your stupid ass. Wattson said something about a crazy scientist, how much of that is true?" At her question I stiffen. Such a pervasive rumor my existence is.

"Don't say that word." I whisper. This clearly intrigues Gracelyn. Her eyes light up with a curiosity I've grown to fear over my entire life. I'm not a slab of meat. Especially for a girl who I owe nothing.

"Crazy? Does that bother you? How about psycho? Or freak?" I start clenching my fists. I've always considered myself a reserved person, but there's never a reason to attack someone's person. Not like this. Not taking a bunch of cheap from your throne when you don't even have half the facts.

"Stop." I say slightly louder trying to control my racing heart beat. She doesn't let up though and the words bounce around in my head like tracker jackers swarming their prey.

"Psycho." Echoes the loudest. Glass shatters in my mind and I should

"Shut up! You don't know me! God why are you doing this? Why do people always take so little information and then judge so harshly? Is it really so hard for you people to actually talk to me?!" The words come out hot and fast, they feel good finally coming out.

Everything I despise about the world is summed up in this one woman. Someone who has surely had strugglers in their life but has been given opportunities to save their skin and make themselves into something. Now that they're on top and privileged they can go around shitting on anyone they want for any reason they want. I refuse to stand by idly and let it continue.

"So you can talk!" Gracelyn lights up.

"I'm not a mute!"

"Well if you're some crazy experiment how am I supposed to know what you can and can't do when you don't freaking talk to me?"

"What do you want to know oh all powerful Gracelyn?" I spit the words at her, heart racing.

"This is good kid. How about why the fuck you volunteered!" She re-questions. This time words pour out.

"Because one time my dad gave me a serum that was supposed to make me grow a foot overnight. We were going to sell it to District Two and make millions of credits and live happily. So after he injected me with it I got a really bad rash for a week and couldn't poop for two days. And that's one of the more fun examples. I have no choices in life. Do that. Eat this. Try this new medicine. Obey. Obey. Obey. So I saw my chance to make decision for me and I did it, and I'm letting you judge my actions about it."

"Well I'll be damned." Gracelyn stands up, puts her stool back, and smiles.

"What?"

"I don't care about your story kid. I don't care if you've been a guinea pig or whatever. I care about your future and making you a victor. You just showed me some fire, I can work with that. Are you in this to win? Or to die? Because if you volunteered to die I'm going to take a nap. If you volunteered to change your life we have reapings to recap. Which is it?" I ponder her ultimatum for a moment, but only a moment because the answer is clear.

"Grab some paper before you start the recaps, I like to take notes."

* * *

 **Duchess Ashni - District Two Female**

"I want to get straight to the recaps." I tell Enobaria.

"Eager are we?" She asks sipping a large glass of white zinfandel. "Would you like some?" She offers me a glass that I take happily. A little wine would be nice, if for no other reason than to enjoy my time a little more. This _is_ the experience of a lifetime, I should enjoy every second of my rise to victor status.

"Very eager. Let's get started."

"Give me just a moment." Enobaria disappears into another cart. I glare at Princeton willing him to leave. Can't he take a hint?

"You want me to leave so you can judge everyone's reaping without me. Right?" I purse my lips mad that he could read my microaggressions, but pleased that he understood. "Consider me gone. Just remember I'm your best ally." He winks at me and leaves.

"He's right." I verbally remind myself. District Two is known for loyalty as much as possible, though we're also known for doing whatever it takes to win. I have no doubt I'll have to take him out, but for now he's an asset.

"Who's right?" Enobaria asks me holding a tray of thinly shaved meats, cheeses, and assorted crackers.

"No one. Let's get started." I say reaching for the remote. There's only one channel and it's conveniently playing the District One Reaping, it might actually be the only thing the Capital is showing right now, I couldn't image what else.

"I was talking to my friends Fleur and Gloss, the mentors for District One this year. Apparently this guy is incredible, the girl wasn't meant to volunteer though. That could be good or bad."

"It's bad. It means she's reckless and doesn't fall in line." _I can change that_. "As for him, he looks almost as strong as Princeton." Welton's shoulders are broad his jaw set and eyes unyielding. He's a born killer. Nigella is the problem child of the pair.

"They are both huge threats." I watch as Princeton looks calm, strong, and sexy as he volunteers. I look collected and ruthless. I look deadly and determined, much like Welton I look like a killer. Princeton looked more like a joke.

"Let's skip District Three." I say reaching for the remote.

"Never skip Three. They have lots of victors for a reason." I obey and lower the remote. A thin asian kid takes a puff from an inhaler and drags his ass to the stage, a bloodbath if I ever saw one. The girl looks very put together and says a line about looking forward to accepting the challenge. She could be a troublemaker in the making. No one just says things like that for no reason. She's smart, and probably very well disciplined, which makes her a huge threat.

At least, for a non-career.

"She could be a tough one." I say politely acknowledging Enobaria who smiles widely silently telling me 'I told you so'.

District Four erupts in applause for a girl named Dawn, who looks the part of a strong and confident career. Lots of smiles and handshakes followed by her graciously name dropping her victor mother ends her 5 minutes of fame. I don't fear her one bit. Then some kid is reaped and Enobaria leans forward.

"Well tits." She says half laughing. "Dreams do come true."

"What?" She laughs a little bit as District Four stays silent. Last year's victor, Finnick, screams at the crowd.

"That's Finnick's cousin." My mind starts racing a mile a minute. I told myself I'd have to be ruthless, and he has the ultimate connection to sponsors if he's in tight with Finnick. He dies first. I make a mental note that he's only 15 surely not on par with the rest of us who are all at least 2 years his senior.

District Five's girl doesn't stand out one bit, granted she's sufficiently pretty but nothing makes her memorable. Then he district partner volunteers without any explanation. Why? He doesn't look strong or trained.

"I'll have to keep on eye on him." Caheyl, I tell myself to remember the name.

District Six is almost a carbon copy of District Five, an unremarkable younger girl is reaped and another boy volunteers. When asked why he just shrugs at the escort. He doesn't have any training either. He can't, the first thing they teach us after we learn to walk is how to handle being on camera.

"So many volunteers, and one who didn't volunteer." Enobaria says. "You have many targets already."

"Yes ma'am." I say in my most lady like and polite voice.

 _Damn right I do._

* * *

 **Klementine Carresse Grasswood - District 11 Female**

"I always ask one thing out of my tributes ok? It's that you don't lie to me. I don't care who you are, where you've been, or what you're planning. I really only care about getting you through each and every day up until someone a little stronger take that privilege away from me." Sirco's mentor Chaff addresses both of us. I stare at his missing arm with a lump in my throat. Why he's allowing me in the room he's set to say.

"Understood, sir." Sirco says like a polite gentlemen.

"You two need to have a conversation right now and I don't care what the outcome is but I need to know if you're teaming up or not. Technically Sirco you're my tribute and Klem isn't. But I think we all know that nut job Teak isn't actually any help. I'm offering to train both of you." Sirco turns to me with a blank expression. I want to beg for his help and to join him but I say nothing. I've always been a shy person, incredible so.

"I think it's a great idea, us teaming up." Sirco says in a low voice, almost a grumble. He's a man. Not a teenager or a kid like myself, but a real man. How is this fair? I almost miss the part where he agreed to ally with me.

"I agree. That'd be amazing." I say avoiding eye contact while physically feeling the tension in my shoulders release. I didn't know how immediately stressed I became.

"Great well first thing is first let's watch the other reapings." He grabs the remote and start flicking some buttons and soon a wall alights with Caesar Flickerman's face.

"Now let's get to the District Seven reaping!" He says thoroughly enthusiastic.

"We missed half of them." Sirco says.

"They'll be played on repeat kid. Don't worry, just watch and try to pick out allies. You can tell something about a person by their reaping."

" _I volunteer as tribute."_ A strong looking redhead volunteers.

"What does her reaping tell us?" I ask genuinely curious.

"Didn't you see the way she leaned in and said something to the girl? They have different last names so the volunteer is either incredibly stupid or has the hots for the other chick, and based on that hug it's the latter. Pay attention Klem." Chaff says matter of factly. I know he didn't mean to sound rude, but the guy is genuinely disdainful. "What can you tell me about the guy?" I watch as someone apparently named Connor lumbers on to the stage he's just as big as Sirco.

"He's been doing manual labor his whole life. Probably cutting trees since it's District Seven." I respond trying to sound observant and like I'm trying.

"And?" Chaff further questions me. Sirco comes to my rescue and answers.

"And they'd probably be great allies." Chaff claps a few times pleased with Sirco's response. I look to the ground slightly angered that I didn't jump to that conclusion. I need allies.

District Eight is unremarkable. A pale skinned girl who's my age is reaped as well as an older boy who looks lean but otherwise unimpressive. Neither Sirco nor Chaff says anything so I keep my thoughts to myself. No need to overshare. In District Nine the girl immediately makes a run for it.

"Run bitch!" Chaff shouts jumping from his seat spilling liquor all over himself. He chuckles and takes a shot as she's dragged to the stage. "I love runners. They make good allies too! Means they have fire." The boy much less excitingly just walks up to stage wiping away tears. District Ten has less excitement though the boy reaped has muscles, not like a career, but far more than his district partner, another girl my age.

"He'd be a good ally yes?" I say daring to speak out again. It's really not my most comfortable area, speaking around strangers. Speaking at all really. I can get a little rowdy with my closest friends and I can chat about the latest fashion but I always end up feeling exhausted and retreat for time alone.

"Very good. That girl is a bloodbath though. Avoid her like starvation." Chaff agrees eating a roll smothered in butter. Again tension in my shoulder melts away. I appreciate the validation.

When I see District Eleven I immediately close my eyes tight until they hurt I don't want to see any of it. I can picture myself looking weak next to giant Sirco and picture people already counting me out like District Ten's girl. I keep them closed until I hear Caesar announce District Twelve.

The youngest person, a boy, is reaped and I don't even consider him for a second. I have to ally strong and the girl is only a year younger. Both bloodbaths more likely than not.

"Don't ally with them. They'll get you killed."

"That's so sad." Sirco says, and I agree with him. Counting people out like this it's sick.

"That's called strategy kid. Play the game or die. Take your pick."

I pick play the game, which is exactly what they want. Am I disgusted with myself? Yes. Am I winning these games no matter what? You bet.

* * *

 **Einion Rutley - District Six Female**

My god. They're tattoos.

I stare at Katarina's cheeks unabashedly taking in every detail. Four perfectly curved lines across each side of her face. Why? I couldn't tell you, but she made the decision to get tattoos. Maybe she really hates herself too. I smirk to myself thinking about someone with the world at their fingertips like her making such stupid decisions.

People like her, victors, people with accomplishments and proud histories have no reason to be depressed. I watch Dane, the mother mentor, wrap an arm around Arlette and start hobbling into another train cart. His story of losing his leg is well known, trying to smuggle guns is legal, doesn't matter you status as a victor. Katarina shot him and he lost the leg.

Why? Why, do people just so recklessly do stupid shit like that. Risk their amazing lives for what? What, a tiny part of District Six to have guns and be able to rebel? Stupid.

"Now listen Arlette." Dane says leading her into the next cart.

"It's Letta." She says with a little bite.

"Either way, stay away from fuck up volunteer boy." The door closes and his voice becomes too muffled for me to hear. I want to go in there and tell him that I'm not a fuck up, but what's the use. I'm not going to be able to really change his mind, and he's right. I did volunteer. Someone who has all the power in the world like him wouldn't understand why though.

"Kid what's going on in that head." Katarina snaps in my face. "We're focusing on me now." She says while getting her wing tip mascara perfect.

"What do you know?" I say impulsively. "You'll never understand me." Her eyes gloss over my body like I'm a piece of meat or a cheap painting.

"I think I know you a little better than you'd like to admit." She walks over to me practically purring at me and rubs her index finger across my arm and pushes harshly into the crux of my elbow. Right where a small needle usually finds it's home. "You've been doing it wrong for years my new friend." I look away with my face feeling hot.

"Fuck you." I say more to myself than to anyone else. I used to preach to Oliver to stay away from druggies and people with no self control. No matter how hard I preached though that night when I was 8 and he was only 6 he still took a pill from the prostitutes hanging out with my mother in the living room. I'll never forget shaking his tiny body in the morning begging for him to wake up. However dreams don't come, they will follow you forever as nightmares though.

"Try this." Katarina grabs my face and forces my jaw open. She places what looks like a clear plastic square on my tongue. It dissolves immediately on my tongue with a bitter hit. "This is morphling's funner cousin. There are so many names that I don't keep track." She places one on her tongue. "Enjoy the ride."

We sit down for hours just laughing hysterically about this and that and nothing at all. I think I ask her about the whiskers but I can't remember if I actually asked or if I just imagined it, let alone if she gave me a reply. Her lips say she's going to the bathroom and she disappears. Oliver walks through the door and takes her place.

"No." I say with a sense of finality. "No."

"Why didn't you save me." Oliver's voice echoes in my head though his lips don't move. "I was only 6 how was I supposed to know." His eyes start to sink into his head and the familiar feeling of guilt starts to pulse in my head. "Help me!" His innocent voice shrieks.

"Get out of my head." I mumble, the shout. "Get out!" Instantly I'm flooded with memories of holding his body, of screaming at my mother for not getting her act together, of making another drug deal, of trying to stay in class but just being too tired. Such awful memories, I'll be rid of them soon.

"Einion, you're screaming dude." Katarina says throwing her arm around me. "Let me show you something incredible." With a gentle tug we end up with our faces plastered against the cool glass window. "The Capital."

Tall beautifully constructed stone towers dominate the skyline with limestone domes and sparkling ruby spires. Spread winged eagle insignias cover the sides of buildings and as we slow I notice colorfully dressed people hustling between the buildings. Men with feathers entangled in their hair. Women who have facial tattoos that put Katarina's to shame. A couple holds hands sitting on a marble bench with matching outfits, they jump upright as the train slows further to a stop.

"Everyone in this city is waiting to get to know you Einion. The world in all it's beauty and hell is yours to conquer." My eyes alight at the sheer 'extra' before me.

"All for me." I try to smile at the expanse of people crowding to the window. I instinctively start waving at them.

"When you die, they will make you immortal. Volunteering was the best thing that ever happened to you." She nudges me and I take another tab from her, take it, and keep waving. I can enjoy this.

* * *

 _so this was honestly a lot of fun to write, y'all have amazing tributes and digging into their psychology has been nothing shy of awesome._

 _before you leave check out the poll on my profile, I want to keep integrating the mentors and I want you to tell me which ones!_

 _have a great day y'all, see you in about 10-14 days with the chariot rides!_


	10. Horse of a Different Color

**listen guys I'm sorry that this is super late. I know that I've been so shitty about updating and such. I've been going through a lot right now, my mother had another heart attack and it's really has prevented me from getting anything done. Last week I had this rape advocacy training for one of my internships and that has really taken a lot out of me. Then of course the whole Orlando thing, I've been petrified ever since, I'm a gay guy and this weekend is pride in my home city and it's all just been a lot recently. I'm not asking for pity, merely understanding.**

 **this story will go on. I can't promise when but it will.**

* * *

Theophilus "Theo" Larch - District Twelve Male

The sliding doors open with a swoosh and the noise of a few people chatting catches my attention. It's one thing to see the pictures of The Capital I've seen on the holovision, it's another entirely to actually be here. Giant buildings with glimmering windows and people dressed in colors I didn't know existed. Such vibrant yellows and greens that aren't the color of trees. It's dreamlike.

"Move you little shits." Haymitch bumps into both myself and Ivy pushing us out the train cart. He's not the nicest of people, kind of rude actually. I think he's been drinking too much.

"You could say please you know." I say trying to sound bossy. One of the people waiting outside the train starts laughing hysterically.

"This is too rich! A 12 year old mouthing off the Haymitch Abernathy." The rest of the small crowd joins him laughing. Though I don't truly understand why I join in the laughter as well, better to be a part of something than left out right? "Get over here kid." I obey with a smile.

"Hi!" They collectively get a camera ready and a microphone.

"Tell us who you are and what you're all about kid." I ponder the questions for a moment before answering.

"I'm Theo Larch. My dad is a carpenter for the big wigs in District Twelve, he actually met Haymitch before I did. But dad says they're all 'giant pricks'. But I'm not sure what that means exactly." I shrug. They all keep laughing with me.

"Tell us more. You excited for the Hunger Games?"

"I have a brother who is 18. I think he was going to try and volunteer for me, but that's not fair to him because obviously I was picked. I guess I'm excited. I'm a pretty competitive guy, I think I have a really good chance." That makes them really bust out laughing, I join in again feeling uncomfortable for not understanding why. Ivy grabs my wrists and tugs on it.

"Come on, they're making fun of you. Plus we have to go." She tugs me a little harder and I fall over. The camera follows me to the floor and everyone keeps laughing at me. My lower lip begins to tremble and I'm feeling very embarrassed instantly. I stand up without anyone's help and lean into the microphone.

"You guys are mean." I say strongly and start walk away from them following Haymitch's stumble and our escort, Liberty. We get into a building and Liberty immediately starts talking extremely quickly.

"Listen you two." She points back and forth at me and Ivy. "I'm a professional woman trying to make something of my life and you two aren't going to ruin it for me. Understood." We both stare at her nodding slightly. "Good. You're probably not going to like the next few hours of your life, but I don't care. When the prep teams and stylists start digging their claws into you let it happen, smile, don't complain, and for the love of God Theo. Keep your mouth shut. If you don't want to die you need to stop embarrassing yourself like you did in front of those cameraman." Haymitch chimes in with the smell of vodka still strong on his breath.

"Yeah kid. There's a reason no one takes you seriously. It's that big mouth of yours." He pulls a flask from his pocket and takes a swig. "And this bushy hair cut. Hopefully someone does something to that." He leans on Liberty. "Amiright?" He slurs.

"Get off me you trash bag." She pushes him off her and into the wall. "You two," Her attention is back on us. "Theo you're first door on the left, Ivy on the right. Don't mess this up." She starts walking away but I hear her mumble. "These kids are so boned." I'm not sure what that means, but it doesn't sound good. I don't want my bones removed from me.

Ivy leaves for her door and I obey Liberty's instructions and leave for my door. Just within a trio of people dressed in shiny colors start talking hastily.

"The hair."

"I know. God look at his nails." One grabs my hand and stares at my fingers.

"And all this dirt!" Another shrieks.

"We have our work cut for us." The one who appears to be the boss huddles them up and they whisper in harsh tones faster and quieter than I can understand. One thing is clear though, they don't seem too pleased.

"It's Theo right?" I nod. "Well, lay on the table and take your shirt and shorts off.

"No." I say impulsively. "I just met you people, I don't want to be naked in front of you." I tell them honestly. This causes one of them to take a deep breath and sigh loudly.

"Listen kid we don't care what you want. Get on the damn table and take off those ratty clothes. We need to get you ready for your costume and that means scrubbing your dirt encrusted body clean. Got it?" The leader says with a sharp tone.

"No! You're being a bully and this is stupid! I want to go home." I blurt out. I don't want to be here with a bunch of strangers who clearly don't have my best interests at heart. They're being straight up rude.

"Kid you're in for a world of trouble if this is that part of the Hunger Games that makes you wish you were home. Just wait until one of those 18 year olds is slowly cutting you in half or you've been without water for 3 days and the sun finally bakes you to death. Then tell me you want to go home. Now get on the table and get naked." Tears run down my cheeks and I obey out of fear.

What did I get myself into?

* * *

 **Simon Chen - District Three Male**

I would be lying if I said that I wasn't enjoying every minute of this. My stylists, though not the most intelligent people, are generally agreeable and make for easy lighthearted conversation. And honestly, it's kind of nice to be pampered. Life was never easy, not by a long shot, but at the same time things were never difficult. District Three lives in this constant pull of being loved by the Capital for what our scientists are able to create, but still oppressed by sheer virtue of our name _District_ Three.

"So aren't you just thrilled to meet Zap?" One of my stylists asks me waking me from my daydream. I answer politely with a kind smile.

"Oh yeah. I'm super excited." I leave off the facts that I really don't care and that I'm not particularly familiar with fashion, be it here or back home. Who has time for such a superfluous thing when you could be learning a real trade or making something.

"Well here he is!" The prep crew exits as a man wearing a silver suit walks in. With each step he glistens like dew collecting on the plants we always kept on our window sill. The sparkles are all consuming yet tasteful and elegant. It's really quite the balance.

"So you're the man of the Games. _Simon Chen, victor of the Hunger Games_. Doesn't that have a nice ring to it kid?" He smils to me with a million dollar shine on his teeth.

"You damn right it does." I can't help but smile back. He's got a strong voice, and with the outfit he certainly dominates the room. I'm sure that's how all his entrances are like.

"Good. Then let's make it happen alright?" He's got a slight Capitol accent, but for the most part his tone is strong but even and non-confrontational, something I greatly appreciate. "I've got big plans for you kid." He pulls a rack of clothes from outside into the room and closes the door. "What's your waist size?"

"Um." I grab the clipboard with all my body measurements on it that my prep team took. "It's 29 inches."

"Not the biggest of guys, are we." He says chuckling to himself. "I assume you've seen the reapings?" He glances my way and I nod vigorously. "Well, you're not going to impress anyone with your muscles especially after those two delicious boys from District 1 and 2. Those two have biceps that could literally crush your skull." I visualize one of them wrapping their arms around my neck and doing just that. Not something I intend to let happen.

"So what's the plan?" I ask tentatively. He's right. I'm not exactly good looking, and I'm certainly not in the stronger half of this year's tributes.

"The plan is an amazing outfit and lots of makeup." I think briefly about how I'm tied for second youngest guy, and of the two 15 year olds I'm not the one related to Finnick Odair. Do I even have a real shot at this? Independent of what this stylist does? I look at the palms of my hands wishing for an answer or an escape and find neither.

This whole time Zap has been talking a mile a minute but the words just haven't been reaching me. I focus in and catch the last part of a sentence. "...much do you trust me?"

"Do whatever you think is best?" I say reactionarily.

"I was hoping you would say that." He smiles devilishly. "How out of the box are you willing to be?"

This question takes me aback. Am I out of the box? No. I'm your typical quiet kid from District Three. I was going to work in my father's computer squad until he died and then take over the small business myself. I'm as hard working as one can expect a 15 year old to me. I can barely answer phone calls, but am still aware that by virtue of having a phone I'm doing way better than most people.

Yet, at the same time I'm still just a pawn in a game. Quite literally now. Hunger _Games_. The title wasn't missed on my I understand games. Chess and scrabble and how many different card games have I learned and mastered.

How you ask? Simple.

Every game begins with an aggressive start, and steady middle game as your wait for your opponents to make mistakes and weed each other, and lastly a decisive well timed strike. A single move can cost you an entire game of chess, and that move is sometimes the first move.

I apply the logic here.

"I'm willing to do whatever it takes." I say unwavering.

"Perfect, tell me Simon. What size wig do you think you'll be able to handle. He unzips a large garment bag and pulls out a small silver dress with a black design on it.

A lump forms in my throat that I force down. This wasn't what I had in mind. But it will certainly make a splash.

* * *

 **Princeton Kingley - District Two Male**

"This is fucking perfect." I say to my stylist, Chaz. Aside from an incredibly small, almost see through, man thong all I'm wearing is a pair of suspenders, a pair of cufflinks, and a bowtie. I look like a model straight out of a classy waiter style porno. I'm here for this.

"You certainly look like a meathead." Duchess says rolling her eyes. She's more traditionally dressed for District Two, a stonemason. It's not a great look, and her attitude is showing.

"You look like a bitch, so who's really at a disadvantage?" I question giving her a side eye. Such negativity. "At least fake a smile, we're about to meet our allies." We walk into a large room pungent with the smell of horse shit and hair spray. Unpleasant to say the least. I immediately spot the sexy piece of meat from District One and his admittedly beautiful District partner. I stride over to them with a winning and give her a firm handshake.

"Nigella Von Trice, nice to meet you." She says with a small smile.

"I'm Princeton, you as well. This is my district partner Duchess." Chess smiles politely and bows to them all ladylike and proper.

"It's a pleasure." She says sounding less venomous than usual.

"Call me Welton." He shakes my hand a little too strong. Someone is trying to establish dominance here, how typical. "I don't mean to get down to business right away."

"But you're going to anyway." I say with a smirk.

"You guys in or out of the alliance?" Nigella interjects. Such a feisty one, a little tactless but obviously willing to play the game. She's a manipulator and ready to fight. I can tell.

"We're in." Duchess says without skipping a beat. "No question that this year one of us wins." She declares sounding slightly narcissistic, but not wrong.

"Couldn't agree more." The girl from Four throws an arm around both me and Chess. "I'm Dawn, count me in." She has a big friendly smile, I immediately like her.

"Me as well." Stephen comes up behind her and waves at everyone. He looks so young, and compared to Welton, myself, and Dawn who is a well build strong woman, he looks even younger. Though obviously attractive. There's some amazing genes in the Odair-Bouchard family. "Call me-" Nigella cuts him off.

"We know who you are Stephen. Unlike you our cousins didn't win the last Hunger Games." Ah yes, Nigella is absolutely tactless. Abrasive, upfront, and cutthroat no doubt, but tactless. I like it.

"Guess I can't hide from that detail." He rubs the back of his head and I glance around the circle. Both Chess and Nigella are staring daggers at this poor boy. Welton has his arms crossed with a stern almost resentful expression. Dawn, his own district partner, tries to stare off into the distance like she's daydreaming. Probably about the ocean, again so typical. Almost feel bad for the kid.

Almost.

"Little bigger than a detail don't you think?" Nigella challenges. He shrugs.

"Look, I'm glad to be here just like all of you and ready to fight. So I was reaped a few years before I would have volunteered, big deal. I'm here now." He almost sounds convincing. His answer seems to satiate Nigella though. It's Chess who breaks the silence.

"Are you my alliance or not." She stares directly at the younger boy who does nothing but nod his head yes.

"Your alliance?" Nigella says hastily. "When did we agree on that. I don't remember a vote or asking you to be the leader." I immediately come to her defense, we have to look strong together, even if she'll probably try to kill me the first time I go to sleep. Right now we make a statement to all the careers that we're not fucking around.

"I don't remember asking for your shitty opinion." I smile at her condescendingly and pinch her cheek. "We can either have Chess as a leader, or we can literally kill each other about it. Or, more likely than not we can do both here in a few days." Nigella looks at me and raises an eyebrow. I think it's respect I see fall across her face, or maybe she's just plotting to kill me too. But when Welton doesn't come to her defense and no one objects I lay the subject to rest.

"Excellent." Duchess says with a smile. "When training starts I think we can all agree we have to stick together and intimidate the other tributes. We don't know which of them will try to rival us yet, but we can't let them see us as weak." As she speaks she looks us up and down like cattle. It's amusing, watching her powertrip.

"Agreed." Dawn says with a nod. "At what number of tributes does this alliance last to?" I fight the urge to crack a joke about how with this chemistry we'll be lucky if we don't turn on each other day one.

"Top 6?" Chess asks the group. Stephen and Dawn both say yes immediately. I shrug without caring. I know they'll try to kill me before that. Nigella pops out a hip and stares at the ceiling like she's actually able to think befor before agreeing and Welton, smooth as marble, nods his head the smallest about possible to the naked eye.

Wonderful. I have an alliance of ass holes, back stabbers, and Dawn. This can't possibly go wrong.

* * *

 **Ryder Hall - District Ten Male**

"Everyone get in your chariots and get ready to go!" A woman screams over the loud cacophony of noises in the room. Stylists primping their tribute with last minute glitter and costume adjustments, the careers boisterously talking about a leader, horses neighing loudly as their bridles get attached, or in my case the sound of my foot restlessly tapping against one of the wheels of my chariot.

"Don't worry girl it'll be over soon enough." I rub the horse's neck as the reigns get tightened and thrown into the chariot. Honestly, I've always felt more comfortable around animals than people. Horses and cattle especially. They're not going to try and stab you in the back, they like to listen and enjoy silence, and most of all they're not going to try and kill issue is that there's no cattle here, they're all back home.

"Snap out of it mister." Elsabeth, my friendly and extremely naive district partner nudges me gently. "It's time to move." I shake my head and refocus on everything. The District One chariot is already trotting down the concourse. An eruption of applause and screaming echoes through the room. Honestly it's jarring, I'm a simple herder from District Ten. This isn't want I'm normally used to. I watch as the boy from District Two starts strutting and flexing as his stone lined chariot begins it's trek.

"Yeah. I guess it is." I glance down at my extremely cliche cowboy outfit and then at Elsabeth's also extremely cliche cowgirl outfit and groan. I tell myself that it's still better than the boy from District Three, who is in fact a boy dressed as a woman. He's super thin and the only reason I can tell him from his district partner is because she obviously has hair and he's obviously in a giant wig. Props to him, he's easily the most memorable as his chariot enters the fray.

Both of the District Three's look uncomfortable but for different reasons. Him for being dressed like a drag queen and her for, well I don't know why she looks so damn salty. It could be the general hatred of the Hunger Games or maybe she has stage fright. Either way, she isn't winning anyone over the way that he is.

When the Odair cousin and his beautiful district partner go through the arch and out onto the walkway they're also met with a loud jeer. I can hear the dude name being screamed loudly. "Stephen!" "Stephen Bouchard!" They tell with such vigor that I could throw up. I hate him. I hate him already. He's got such an unfair advantage by sheer virtue of his name.

If there's one person that I already want to die it's him.

Some people probably have serious morality issues already wishing death upon someone. The way I see it though, is that this game, which is exactly what they call it, is just their way of herding cattle.

Sure, it'd be easier to take all 24 cows and slit their throats, bleed them, butcher them, and so forth. But this isn't about being easy is it? This is about making a huge ordeal about them having power. Proving they have power. All over a stupid war that happened so long ago. No one alive right now went through the Dark Days. We're still fighting the wars of other people.

Not that people have ever thought for themselves.

The pairs from Districts 5 and 6 aren't met with much enthusiasm sporting underwhelming outfits and lackluster 'performances'. They all try to look comfortable, smile a little bit, and look like they're not miserable. But the look on their faces are palpably angered. The girl from 6 looks pissed even through her smile.

The pair from District Seven both look strong, just like in their reapings. The boy is intimidating and the girl is undeniably strong. They'd make good allies. Though they face away from each other adamantly. They might not be interested in allying with each other. Or maybe I'm being paranoid and suspicious looking into something that's really nothing.

Both from Eight look comfortable and the girl looks genuinely friendly, she won't last a day. My heart jolts as our chariot starts trotting down the runway on the heels of the pair from District Nine. I ignore them and hold onto the side of my chariot as my heartbeat quickens. Did I mention that I mostly hate people and try to shy away from them?

Elsabeth starts smiling and waving enthusiastically, looking friendly and earning lots of applause. I try to set my jaw and stare straight ahead. I go to a place in my head where the screams and lights can't find me. The whole ordeal is unknown to me as we travel down the concourse. Eventually we get herded into a circle surrounding the President upon a huge stone pedestal. He glowers down at us with snake like eyes and a blood red smile. He's the type of man you wouldn't join in the elevator, you'd just take the stares.

I exhale a breath I didn't know I was holding and let the games begin.

* * *

 **Mara Werth - District Five Male**

I think scared doesn't even begin to scratch the surface of emotions currently swirling in my stomach. Terror. Adrenaline. Fear. Vitality. Anger. Honestly, a little excitement. Not excited to kill people, obviously. But it's hard to _not_ feel some of the crowd's energy and thrill. Maybe that makes me a bad person, maybe it means I can't help but sympathize with literally thousands of people cheering.

District Eleven finally joins the circle as does District Twelve. Twelve doesn't merit much of a reaction. However the pair from Eleven both look competent, even if the crowd didn't react to them the same way I am. I don't know what it is, the feeling in the pit of my stomach, but I trust it when it says that those two would make good allies. The boy looks especially strong, I think his name is Sirco.

I struggle to breathe as we just sit here. I've always been self conscious. I don't like people staring at me. From my experience when people are staring people are judging, and people who are judging are ruthless and don't care who you are or what you've been through. Which is exactly what school was like and exactly what this bullshit chariot thing has been. I force my lung to take their time as the president raises his hand causing the masses to silent.

"Welcome tributes." President Snow glowers down on us before looking out onto the masses with a thin smile. "We welcome you today to our home."

"What a fucking joke." Rai whispers under his breath.

"Shut up." I say quickly. I don't trust him, nor do I like him. Much like everyone else from District Five I've heard the stories about him, his father, and all the crazy things that he's apparently had to gone through. But I don't care about that. He's impulsive and too sensitive for my taste. I like people who have a tougher skin on them.

"It is with much honor that we've prepared our city for all of you. We praise your dedication to this country and you will be sung about for years to come for your willingness to sacrifice for everyone before you."

Without realizing I've dug my nails into the palm of my hand. The pain keeps me focused on listening to every single word. Wattson gave me slew of advice but the piece that sticks out the most was when heh told me that information and attention are keys to victory. I don't believe a single word that he says but he's important. He's the most powerful man alive. I look up at him with daggers wishing that I could kill him by sheer power of will. Alas, he keeps talking.

"As always, may the odds be ever in your favor." The crowd erupts in a powerful roar. It jars my body and intimidates me. I'm supposed to be able win these games right? Or at least I'm supposed to believe I can. Yet, I'm being scared by a screaming group of adults? My nails dig even harder into my palm. I hate this.

Despite how slowly as we arrive we're dragged back away quickly once the President finished. We zoom past the crowds with a canter. Roses get thrown. Names get screamed, none of which were mine. And the careers dominate. As we go I strain my ears to hear other names. Who else are people rooting for? Through the chorus of 'Stephen' and 'Welton' I hear a name I know doesn't belong to a career, Connor. I make a note to pounce on him the first chance I get.

Finally, after being forced to re-experience the trauma of the chariots we are back. I'm jump off my chariot quickly leaving Rai standin there with a thumb up his butt and dumb look on his face. I dig through my memory and I think Connor is the boy from 7. He looks strong, has a good jawline, and his shoulders are as wide as 2 of my practically.

He bickers with his District partner as I approach. I tamp down my impulse to walk away and to avoid people. I don't have the luxury of being shy anymore. I bite the inside of my cheek, that's one habit I never grew out of once I stopped cutting. It's just a way to remind myself that this is real, pain is real. Connor is a real chance for an ally.

"Fuck you Juniper."

"Well fuck you too Connor. Not like I actually want your fucking help." She flips her hair, naturally it has tree branches in it, and walks away to her mentor. Connor steps off angrily directly in my face.

"Who are you?" He says with eyebrows clenched together and small scowl on his face.

"Mara Werth, and you are?" I ask full well knowing who he is.

"Do you really wanna do this right now? Do I look stupid to you?" He asks incredulous.

"Well you don't look smart that's for sure. And frankly I don't know why you're angry at me because Juniper is being a bitch? Yes, that makes perfect sense." I say instinctively rolling my eyes. Connor narrows his at me.

"You're kind of a bitch you know that." I scoff at him, though he's smiling.

"You're especially observant." Sweat starts to bead on my brow and my costume feels heavy. I remind myself: no more being self conscious. "I was actually wondering if you need allies." The words bust out. His eyes narrow again and he stares at me silently. Not like I'm an animal, but like I'm a person.

"We'll see." He walks away.

That wasn't a no right? I'll take it.

* * *

 **Ivy Dao - District Twelve Female**

All these people are insufferable.

Every, single, last tribute I've seen has been some type of awful. And that's just from what I can tell from looking at them. I'm smart enough to know that I need people on my side in order to win these games. But for the love of God, I just want to scream at some of them.

From my chariot I watch as the boy from seven walks away from the girl form five. He's got a smirk, and she looks like her heart is beating out of her chest. Two people playing a game within the Hunger Games. While I'm a fan of being feisty and aggressive I don't want allies who play passive aggressive and hard-to-get. Begrudgingly, I cross Connor O'Malley off my list of of plausible allies. Leaving only Welton, Sirco, Princeton, Ryder, Calico, Dawn, and Juniper on my list of acceptable allies. They're strong physically, and I'm sure at least a few of them easy to manipulate.

I steel myself and exit my chariot leaving a tearful Theo standing alone in the coal wrought chariot. Welton, the boy from District One is standing on the outskirts of the career pack with his arms crossed and a eye roll just waiting to happen. With a straight face I approach him. His skepticism is palpable.

"Hello?" He says flat.

"Hi." I tucking my hands behind my back.

"Can I help you?" I says looking over my head at who knows what.

"Well it's extremely easy to notice that you're not exactly engaging in your current alliance." By this point in time Princeton Kingsley seems to notice my presence and struts over in his barely existent costume. There's no doubt that between his abs, biceps, smile, and what I can only assume is years of weapons training he's the favorite.

"The fuck are you?" He says with a giant smile.

"Ivy Dao, District Twelve." I say indignant by how dismissive he sounds.

"Oh, that's right. You're that one girl who is coming last place?" Princeton says again with an award winning smile. You could almost forget how crude his words are.

A lump forms in my throat and I fight the impulse to try and claw out his perfect blue eyes. I know how bullies work in gang mentality. They try to intimidate you and scare you into submission. The only way to earn their respect is to stand up to them and force them to take your seriously That's what I have to do.

"No actually, I'm the future victor of the Hunger Games. Who are you? The annual muscle-bound clown? The strong guy who gets backstabbed right after the bloodbath? That you?" He starts laughing hysterically with his arms on his hips and the remaining careers flock to his sides. A pair of scrawny girls, one tan girl with meat on her bones, and the stupid O'dair kid. They all glower at me ruthlessly.

"You wanna play Ivy?" Princeton gets obnoxiously close to me. He's at least a foot taller and maybe double my weight. I stare directly into his chest until he lowers his face to eye level with me.

"Not much of a game if you're the other player." My heart continues to beat and I feel the eyes of so many beating down on me. I'm the center of attention, and I love it. I operate best when people are watching, it keeps you sharp and makes you stronger.

"Ah!" Princeton barks at my face. I jump backwards and hold my fists up to defend myself, but instead I just find them all laughing at me.

All of them except Welton who holds a stoic look.

"I think we all know that it's long overdue for you to leave." Nigella says matching Princeton's perfect smile.

"I think that I never asked for your opinion." I snap back.

"Well at least we know that when we kill you, you'll be feisty about it." Nigella continues. "Now, fucking leave." More laughter, more sneers. But still a blank emotionless stare from Welton. Though I don't want to, my body turns around and I leave the careers there. Laughing at me, feeling victorious over the tiny girl from District Twelve.

But I know that Welton is impressed with me. He was the target and he got my message. This was the first real step towards victory, and it went well. Even if they didn't think so.

I will win this. They will regret fucking with me.

* * *

 **lastly, I want to apologize the Ivy Dao part of the chapter, it's a little shorter than I allot for these first points of view. I've been struggling to write and figure it's better to cut one section a little short than to spend another week trying to re-write it.**

 **please tell me what you think of the chapter, I would really appreciate a little feedback or encouragement in general. this is a priority in my life and as always the story will go on.**

 **also... I didn't really 'proofread' this chapter as thoroughly as normal, so I'm so sorry if there's a lot of errors.**


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